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Photographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  M5S0 

(716)«72.4503 


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CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHIVI/ICIVIH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historiques 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notas/Notas  taohnlquai  at  bibllographiquas 


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to 


The  Institute  has  attempted  to  obtain  the  best 
original  copy  available  for  filming.  Features  of  this 
copy  which  may  be  bibliographically  unique, 
which  may  alter  any  of  the  images  in  the 
reproduction,  or  which  may  significantly  change 
the  usual  method  of  filming,  are  checked  below. 


D 


□ 
D 
D 
D 

n 

D 
D 


D 


Coloured  covers/ 
Couverture  de  couleur 


□   Covers  damaged/ 
Couverture  endommagte 


Covers  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Couverture  restaur^  et/ou  pelliculAe 

Cover  title  missing/ 

Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 

Coloured  maps/ 

Cartes  giographiques  en  couleur 

Coloured  ink  (I.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)/ 
Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 

Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations/ 
Planches  et/ou  illustrations  en  couleur 

Bound  with  other  material/ 
ReliA  avec  d'autres  documents 

Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion 
along  interior  margin/ 

La  re  liure  serrie  peut  causer  de  I'ombre  ou  de  la 
distortion  le  long  de  la  marge  intirieure 

Blank  leaves  added  during  restoration  may 
appear  within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these 
have  been  omitted  from  filming/ 
II  se  peut  que  certaines  pages  blanches  ajouties 
lors  d'une  restauration  apparaissent  dans  la  texte, 
mais,  lorsque  cela  Atait  possible,  ces  pages  n'ont 
pas  M  filmies. 


L'Instltut  a  microfilm*  le  meilleur  exemplaire 
qu'll  lul  a  it*  possible  de  se  procurer.  Les  details 
d«  eat  aNamplaire  qui  sont  peut-*tre  uniques  du 
point  de  vua  bibliographique,  qui  peuvent  modifier 
una  Image  raproduite,  ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une 
modlfloatlon  dans  la  mithode  normale  de  filmage 
•ont  indlquAa  ci-dassous. 


D 
D 
D 
S 
0 
0 
D 


D 


Coloured  pages/ 
Pages  da  eouleur 

Pages  damaged/ 
Pages  endommagies 

Pages  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Pages  rastaur*es  et/ou  pelliculies 

Pages  diseoloured.  stained  or  foxed/ 
Pages  dicolories,  tacheties  ou  piqu6es 

Pages  detached/ 

Pages  ditachias  '-*C:-\"  ■■-•'•  ■- 

Showthrough/ 
Transparence 

Quality  of  print  varies/ 
Quallt*  Inigala  de  I'impression 


rn   includes  supplementary  material/ 


Comprand  du  matiriel  supplimentaire 

Only  edition  available/ 
Saula  Edition  disponible 


Pages  wholly  or  pertially  obscured  by  errata 
slips,  tissues,  etc.,  have  been  refilmed  to 
ensure  the  best  possible  image/ 
Les  pages  totalament  ou  partiellement 
obscurcies  par  un  feuillet  d'errata,  une  pelure, 
etc.,  ont  M  filmAes  A  nouveau  de  fa^on  d 
obtenir  la  meilleure  image  possible. 


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Additional  comments:/ 
Commentaires  suppiimentaires: 


Sacond  title  pigt  ii  s  photoreproduetlon. 


:':^,  -<• 


This  item  is  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Ce  document  est  filmi  au  taux  de  reduction  indiqui  ci-dessous. 

10X  14X  18X  22X 


26X 


30X 


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12X 


16X 


20X 


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28X 


32X 


tails 
I  du 
odifier 
une 
mage 


Th«  copy  filmad  h«r«  has  b«on  rvproductd  thanks 
to  tho  gonorotity  of: 

Douglas  Library 
Quaan's  Univaraity 

Tha  Imagaa  appaaring  hara  ara  tha  baat  quality 
posaibia  conaidaring  tha  condition  and  lagibility 
of  tha  original  copy  and  In  Icaaping  with  tha 
filming  contract  spaclfications. 


Original  coplaa  in  printad  papar  covara  ara  fllmad 
baginning  with  tlia  front  covar  and  anding  on 
tha  last  paga  with  a  printad  or  iiiuatratad  impraa- 
alon,  or  tha  bacic  covar  whan  approprlata.  Ail 
othar  original  coplaa  ara  flimad  baginning  on  tha 
first  paga  with  a  printad  or  Iiiuatratad  Impraa- 
sion,  and  anding  on  tha  iaat  paga  with  a  printad 
or  iiiuatratad  imprassion. 


Tha  last  racordad  frama  on  aach  microflcha 
shall  contain  tha  symbol  — »•  (moaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  tha  symbol  ▼  (moaning  "END"), 
whichavar  applias. 


L'axamplaira  fiim4  fut  raprodult  grica  A  ia 
gAnAroaitA  da: 

Douglas  Library 
Quaan's  Univaraity 

l.aa  Imagaa  aulvantaa  ont  AtA  raproduitaa  avac  la 
plua  grand  aoln,  compta  tanu  da  la  condition  at 
da  ia  nattatA  da  l'axamplaira  fiimA,  at  an 
conformitA  avac  laa  condltlona  du  contrat  da 
fiimaga. 

l-aa  axampialras  orlginaux  dont  ia  couvartura  an 
paplar'aat  ImprimAa  aont  fiimAa  an  commandant 
par  ia  pramiar  plat  at  an  tarminant  soit  par  la 
darnlAra  paga  qui  comporta  una  amprainta 
d'impraaalon  ou  d'llluatratlon,  aoit  par  la  sacond 
plat,  aaion  la  caa.  Toua  las  autraa  axampialras 
orlginaux  aont  fiimAa  an  commandant  par  la 
pramiAra  paga  qui  comporta  una  amprainta 
d'impraaalon  ou  d'llluatratlon  at  an  tarminant  par 
la  darnlAra  paga  qui  comporta  una  talla 
amprainta. 

Un  das  symboias  sulvants  apparattra  sur  la 
d«frniAra  imaga  da  chaqua  microflcha,  salon  la 
cas:  la  symbols  — »» signifia  "A  SUIVRE",  la 
symbols  ▼  signlfia  "FIN". 


Maps,  platas,  charts,  ate,  may  ba  fllmad  at 
diffarant  raductlon  ratioa.  Thosa  too  iarga  to  ba 
antiraiy  includad  in  ona  axposura  ara  fllmad 
baginning  In  tha  uppar  laft  hand  cornar,  laft  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  aa  many  framas  aa 
raquirad.  Tha  following  diagrama  lliuatrata  tha 
mathod: 


Laa  cartas,  planchas,  tabiaaux,  ate,  pauvant  Atra 
fiimAa  A  daa  taux  da  rAduction  diff Arants. 
Loraqua  la  documant  oat  trop  grand  pour  Atra 
raprodult  an  un  saul  clichA,  II  aat  fiimA  A  partir 
da  i'angia  supArlaur  gaucha,  da  gaucha  A  droita, 
at  da  haut  un  baa,  an  pranant  la  nombra 
d'Imagaa  nAcassalra.  Las  diagrammas  sulvants 
iiiustrant  la  mAthoda. 


rrata 
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THE   SALONS   OF   PARIS. 


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"  Hi*  very  faults  ahall  afibrd  amusement,  and  under  them  h»  ma*,  wilhtiiit  (h«  ftir 
iu.i!ity  of  a  preceptor,  eomrounicate  iDitruction.'*— iVf/oc*  l9  Ut  n/>  DinuttHttl' 

.  "  In  a  novel,  not  profewiDg  to  be  a  mere  tatt,  (with  whioh  U  ii  oftoii  HnnfutiiiiliMl. 
but  from  whicb,  I  think,  it  thould  be  carefully  ditUnguiihed,)  the  luatvrlHl*  for  internal 
are  Dut,  I  apprehend,  to  be  solely  derived  from  a  plot."— /♦«<.  ,      ^_^^ 


j; 


k'i. 


■■I.4J 


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IN  TWO  VOLUMES.    V       ^^^      .    ' 

♦f 

'•    '<'  VOL.  I.     .-''-^^.^'V  ^^'., 

■  '  i 

■...,--  ■;■ .  -..>-:-.^  Mi-'''^\, 

NEW-YORK: 


SOLD  BV  G.  long;  WHITE,  GALLAHER  &  WHITE;  OOl.ljINtl  If  (70,; 
COLLINS  tl  HANNAY  ;  D.  FELT;  WH.  BURQEW,  JH.  |  O,  A.  ROUHHAOH  I 
M.  B.  HOLMES  ;  W.  B.  QILLEY  ;  G.  &  C.  &  U.  OAllVILli ;  Ai  't'.  (lOOIt* 
MICH  ;   E.  BLISS ;   0.  8.  FRANCIS. 

PHILADELPHIA — towar  &  hooan;  t.  de  iiLVKn  j  j,  aftiau.— » 
BAJEiTIMORE— w.  &  j.  neal. — BOSTON— hiwharobon  Ic  i.uro. 

1829^ 


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t^'"'*'^^-.,'^  ^..A  »..^;.iiij  .iinllilitt,,  ««#*i|t-^ 


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J.  SEYMOUR, 
D.  FANSHAW. 


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"la YTON  fcVAN  NORDEX,    i ^""*«" '"•* P"»>liih«M  ftuMT/Hlw. 
0"    H.C.  SLEIGHT,  J 

Orders  BddceaM  to  E.  B.  CLAYTON,  New-York. 

^fmmpmnmtntr^T'VHntr^*'^'mm'r      i^  ■  i^  ■■»■■■    i  *i  ■■■*■■!  i-fi        ■     ammf^^mfmaffn 


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OS, 


CHE  SALONS  OF  PARIS. 


1'^  very  NmIIi  riMi  aRerJ  •iiin*emoiit,  nn^  ttN4<-:  iitcn.  na  ni»«,  xiilMut  <!••  liw- 
'(•;•    .  of*  MWMlWi  coMttiutiicatc  initntrt'^M.  '—Prtfmtt  l»  Ut  cii'>  //«Mt(>««4> 

ir«e<J,  Mil (waftiwiitf  to  Im  •  mnrc  fa/e,  <»iili  wiiirlt  it  w  eftra  cMictixiM, 
btfe  V\i  whtek.  ltfMi,M«lM«U  W  raroftiny  dtMiosiiMlMtf,)  fhc  ■4t«tialt fei  iirtanii ,. 


*-i.  f 


IN  TWO  VOLUMES. 
VOL.  I. 


It 

NEW-YORK    ' 


»'U»    MX   Q.   I.'lXO;    VlllTBt  «»H.A.:Kll   k    WJIITK  ;    COt.Ll^*    A        .- 

oiLLiKt  I:  iiannay;  i>.  rrvr;  van.  ntitnes*,  in. ;  o.  a.  nt>i>r   .  h. 
N.  R.  MoLMRs;  w.  •.  nii.u:r;  u.  k  o.  A^  ii.  r%iivii.i. :  a.       k.».,0' 
Hicitt  r.  M.in;  c.  t.  ra.xttvia. 
i'lllLADELP11IA--TOWAft  Ie  aocAM ;  t.  »c  Ui^rKR ;  i.  ckiocw— >— 
nALTIMORB— w.Jk  i.  K.AU — DOSTCN-rmiahuso.n  k  t.u*\f 

T329.   "' 


^y^viA/  A/«.-j  7^K/i^  /L<f<^  ^^^-^^^^ 


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■  ^  ■:'■... 

i,  ■■  •  ■ *  ■  ■■•  ■ 

6c  ARTE. 

»    - 

CHAPTER  I. 

■■-''" 

*♦  Steam  !— steam  ! — eternally  steam  !  steam  pac- 
kets across  the  Atlantic — steam  engines  for  our  manufac- 
tures^birds  hatched  by  steam — linen  washed  by  steam ! 
Wiiy,  surelv,  this  is  nothing  less  'than  the  Promethean 
fire  stolen  from  Heaven  in  former  days,  and  since  fallen 
into  disrepute.  No  project  is  now  undertakenjvithout 
steam.  The  whole  secret  of  our  existence  will  be  reduced 
to  the  universal  influence  of  steam :  we  shall  live  by  steam 

^  —die  by  steam,  and  go  to  Heaven,  or  to  the  other  place, 
by  steam.  What  say  you,  Clifford?  what  is  your  idea 
of  this  most  gigantic  of  human  inventions?" 

.•  This  oration,  the  longest  he  had  ever  been  known  to- 
make  on  anv  other  subject  than  foxhunting  and  the  gout, 
was  uttered  by  Sir  Edward  Delamaine,  an  elderly,  good- 
natured  barbnet,  of  Norman  descent,  who,  comfortably 
seated  over  his  wine  in  Grosvenor-street,  with  his  legs 
wrapped  in  flannel,  was  performing  the  two-fold  opera- 
Uon  of  discussing  his  second  bottle  of  claret,  and  reading 
the  Courier  for  the  evening.  At  the  opposite  extremity 
of  the  table,  sat  a  fine  dark-looking  young  man,  his 
nephew,  who,  like  most  nephews,  in  a /e^-o-^e/e  with  an 
(ila  uncle,  was  evidently  indulging  in  thoughts  that 
had  not  the  most  remote  connexion  with  anything  around 
him.  He  had  regularly  settled  himself  into  a  musing 
atUtude.  His  legs  were  crossed — his  left  hand  was  thrust 
into  the  bosom  of  his  waistcoat,  and  (a  point  d'appm 
having  been  formed  by  the  curvature  of  his  right  arm,  the 


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elbow  resting  on  the  highly  polished  table,  along  wUicii 
it  occasionally  slipped  to  his  evident  annoyance)  his  head 
had  the  benefit  of  support  from  the  other— rwhile  his  body, 
like  that  of  his  companion,  was  half  turned  towards  the 
faint  fire  which,  even  in  the  early  part  of  September,  the 
health  of  the  invalid  rendered,  in  some  degree,  indispensa- 
ble to  his  comfort.  From  this  incipient  reverie  he  was 
now  suddenly  awakened,  by  the  long  and  singularly  en- 
ergetic exclamation  of  the  baronet,  who  had,  moreover, 
thrown  down  the  paper  with  a  movement  of  impatience. 

"  In  truth,  ray  dear  uncle,"  he  replied,  smiling,  and 
glancing  at  the  paper,  which  contained  a  prodigiously 
long  puff  on  the  properties  of  steam,  "  the  universality 
of  this  invention  cannot  be  questioned ;  and  I  confess 
I  am  not  without  a  belief  that  steam  will,  after  all,  be 
discovered  to  be  the  real  philosopher's  stone — the  great 
secret  of  wealth  and  improvement.  We  shall  soon,  I 
dare  say,  see  armies  manoeuvred  by  steam,  and  even 
the  good  city  of  London  removed  to  the  coast  by  steam, 
for  the  benefit  of  sea  air  in  the  season,  without  any  in- 
terruption to  the  ordinary  course  of  business.  Moreo- 
ver, I  expect  we  shall  have  steam  carriages,  and  (we 
are  told  so  in  '  The  Mummy')  steam  orators,  and  steam 
statesmen.'* 

"  True,  true,"  rejoined  the  baronet,  musingly ;  then,' 
after  a  pause — "  Do  you  know,  Clifford,  that  I  have  a 
great  curiosity  to  try  the  motion  of  a  steam  vessel  t 
What  say  you  to  a  trip  to  the  continent  f  Perhaps 
change  of  air  will  have  the  effect  of  ridding  me  of  this 
infernal " 

*'  Gout,"  he  would  have  added,  but  a  violent  twinge,- 
at  that  moment,  contracted  every  feature  of  his  some- 
what ruddy  countenance,  and  prevented  the  conclusion 
of  the  sentence. 

"  Most  willingly,"  replied  the  young  man,  as  soon 
as  the  momentary  pang  had  passed  off;  "  for,  indepen- 
dently of  my  desire  to  fall  in  with  any  plan  that  has 
your  health  for  its  object,  I  confess  I  think  it  high  time 


.^■•' 


ft  .: 


t-;    ,f    .  *" 


-^;^1 


■....^■i^ 


iSCARTl^. 


en-  '  ,1 

las 

me 


that  I  should  see  something  of  the  continent  myself, 
it  is  now  two  years  since  I  lef^  Cambridge,  and — *' 

"Good,  good,"  interrupted  the  baronet;  "we  shall 
set  off  immediately;  I  to  enjoy  the  pure  air  of  the 
bVench  capital ;  you,  of  course,  to  bask  in  the  sunshine 
of  beauty.  Ah,  Clifford,  Clifford,  I  wish  from  my 
soul  tliat  you  would  think  of  marrying." 

To  this  observation  his  companion  made  no  reply  ; 
but,  taking  out  his  watch,  remarked  that  it  was  time  for 
him  to  dress  for  an  evening  engagement :  and  he  left 
the  room,  as  if  to  avoid  all  further  conversation  on  the 
subject.  With  an  expressive  "humph,"  the  gouty  ba- 
ronet resumed  his  paper,  and  the  easy  position  from 
which  he  had  been  momentarily  deranged. 

Preparations  of  any  description  are  certainly  no- 
where sooner  than  in  London.  At  an  early  hour  on 
the  following  Monday,  the  carriage  of  Sir  Edward  ^el- 
maine  was  at  the  door  of  his  residence.  His  gout  had 
considerably  subsided,  but  the  good  baronet  was  too- 
much  a  favourite  to  be  suffered  to  depart,  without  every 
due  precaution  being  taken  to  guard  him  against  tlie  sea 
breeze  and  other  casualties.  His  housekeeper,  a  re- 
spectable old  lady  of  fifty,  had  literally  buried  his  legs 
in  a  bed  of  flannel,  so  that  when  he  appeared  at  the  hsdl 
door,  he  had  more  the  appearance  of  a  mummy  than  of  a 
traveller.  With  some  dilfiiculty,  the  butler  contrived  to 
raise  him  into  his  seat,  amid  the  repeated  entreaties  of 
Mrs.  Carey  that  the  bandages  might  not  be  deranged. 
Recollecting  that  she  had  only  confined  him  in  a  boX'< 
coat,  of  a  thickness  sufficient  to  impede  the  usage  of  his 
arms,  the  good  lady  hobbled  into  the  hall,  and  soon  re- 
appeared with  a  cloak  of  voluminous  dimensions,  which 
she  successively  charged  the  two  domestics  by  whom 
they  were  accompanied  to  throw  over  Sir  Edward  imme- 
diately after  their  embarkation.  This  important  point 
being  settled,  the  carriage  was  driven  off,  followed  by 
the  prayers  of  the  household,  collected  to  take  'leave  of 
a  master  whose  excellent  qualities  of  heart  and  disposio 

1* 


■.if'' 


6 


£CARTE. 


don,  had  long  since  rendered  him  an  object  of  universal 
esteem  and  veneration. 

It  being  the  wish  of  the  baronet  to  travel  by  easy 
stages,  two  days  were  employed  in  the  journey  to  Dover : 
and  on  the  morning  of  the  third,  although  the  wind  was 
particularly  unfavourable,  they  embarked  on  board  the 
steam  vessel  for  Calais.  Apprehending  a  renewal  of 
liis  malady,  Delmaine  had  prevailed  on  his  uncle  to  re- 
tire to  the  small  cabin  which  he  had  engaged  for  the 
purpose ;  and,  protected  against  the  inclemency  of  the 
weather  by  the  ample  folds  of  his  cloak,  remained  him- 
self on  deck.  Here  he  found  a  temporary  amusement, 
in  contemplating  the  different  groups,  of  all  ranks  and 
conditions,  promiscuously  huddled  together,  and  dis- 
cussing their  meditated  movements  on  a  land  already 
encumbered  with  visitants  of  a  description  little  calcula- 
ted to  impress  any  very  favourable  opinion  of  English 
manners,  and  English  society,  on  the  minds  of  the  va- 
rious continental  people. 

'<  Do  you  think  we  shall  reach  Calais  without  acci- 
dent, sir?"  inquired  a  huge  mass  of  moving  clay, 
whose  habiliment  alone  proclaimed  the  sex  tq  which  it 
belonged,  while  the  Stentorian  lungs,  dappled  cheeks, 
and  abruptness  of  manner,  sufficiently  indicated  the 
class  of  the  querist. 

The  person  interrogated  deigned  not  a  reply ;  but, 
fixing  the  speaker  with  a  look  of  mingled  suprise  and 
indignation,  appeared  to  wonder  at  a  question  from  one 
so  apparently  unimportant. 

"  Do  you  think  we  shall  reach  Calais  without  acci- 
dent f"'  repeated  the  lady,  in  no  way  moved  or  discou- 
raged by  the  repulsive  manner  of  her  neighbour.         f 

"  lleally,  madam,"  at  length  muttered  the  gentleman, 
anxious  to  disembarrass  himself  of  his  uncourtly  com- 
panion, and  loo\ing  round  to  see  if  any  person  of  seem- 
ing consequence  was  attending  to  the  colloquy,  "  I  fear 
we  are  not  without  considerable  danger— the  clouds  are 
gadiering  fast — the  wind,  alread}'  high,  is  increasing 


>K 


£cart£.  f 

every  moment,  and  the  appearance  of  the  sea  indicates 
an  approaching  storm." 

*<  Good  Lord,  sir !  are  you  serious  ?"  and  the  arm  of 
the  informer  was  compressed  within  a  grasp  of  no  very 
feminine  nature. 

This  was  falling  from  Scylla  into  Charybdis,  Much 
offended  at  the  liberty,  but  more  vexed  at  certain  marks 
of  sarcastic  pleasure  imprinted  on  the  features  of  such 
of  his  fellow  passengers  as  were  inaccessible  to  the  nau- 
sea of  sea  sickness,  and  consequently  disposed  to  emoy 
a  scene,  the  continuation  of  which  promised  to  afiord 
some  amusement,  the  first  impulse  of  the  person  called 
on,  was  to  repel  familiarity  with  silence  ;  but,  aware  of 
the  necessity  for  self-command,  and  unwilling  to  appear 
wanting  in  savoir  vtvre,  he  replied,  though  in  a  tone  of 
ill-suppressed  irritation,  that  he  was  perfectly  serious, 
every  thing  indicating  a  tempest ;  and,  after  briefly  ex- 
posing the  inconvenience  of  her  remaining  on  deck, 
concluded  by  strongly  recommending  her  to  retire  to 
the  cabin  as  a  place  of  safety. 

"Oh,  la!  that  ever  I  should  have  been  so  unluckv 
as  to  trust  myself  on  the  wide  sea  in  a  gale  of  wind,^' 
exclaimed  the  lady,  heedless  of  the  admonition,  and 
turning  her  large  gray  eyes  up  to  heaven  with  puritani- 
cal expression. 

The  tone  in  which  this  ejaculation  was  uttered,  con- 
trasted too  forcibly  with  any  thing  that  had  hitherto 
met  the  delicate  ears  of  her  companion,  not  to  inspire 
him  with  absolute  horror.     Energy  of  language  is  gene- 
'^  rally  accompanied  by  energy  of  action.     The  exclama- 
.'¥  tion  of  the  lady  was  followed  by  an  increased  pressure 
of  the  arm,  which  drew  from  the  body  to  which  it  was 
attached,  an  interjection  of  a  no  less  fervent  character. 
(  "  Good  Heaven !  madam,"  he  vociferated,  his  dignity 
fading  before  the  violence  of  the  pain,-~"  you  have  the 
grasp  of  a  bear."     A  gen'     i  and  vainly-suppressed 
jaugh  proclaimed  the  aimuseiaent  of  several  of  die  pas- 
sengers.    The  lady,  however,  very  unceremoniously 
passed  her  arm  entirely  through  that  of  the  sufferer,  in^ 


f 


8 


tCARTt, 


M 


'njuiy.  *  »«ojected  to  a  repetition  of  the 

We  personage  .onriauedrpSi^  and  «n&shio„,. 
h«,  from  his  soul,  at  the  bottnS?^^  *"""'  ""^  ""he^^ 
he  socceeded  in  nme^h^       '^'^  "» '  ^d,  thouirh 

testimony  to  his  feeliZ  T^°?"  ^"«  «»o  ample 
doubtful.    The  coBtr^t^iZlr^f'  *.*"?  "''  ''»'a«t 
ndicule  of  the  scene  to  the  li, T     "'  *,"Kl"ened  the  : 
being  excessively  «lUndd.,„KTr'''«  ffenfleman 
,     and  gifted  with  a  rotm^tvZ' r     '"''^  "««»ua% ,horL 

»ne  of  the  puncheon  "ZXllT  TJi  "?."*«  *»'  ^^ 

~t":ffi-^p^iJofV?^f;i^^^^^^^ 
J»?pt^.tSJrs-%tg^^ 

ill-nature.  "^  *"™®°  'O'  the  expression  of 

a»;^v::?'4r„s;i'«  -  ^t;^  'ann- «««-. 

lose,  madam?"  he  demanrflT-        ™™  y™  mnch  to 
Slancing  at  the  "  seaS  "' '"  Tl  ''^^'^»'»'.  a»d    * 
cnmson  gown,  which  Tas  J,,.  ^  -m*"*?  ">«  '""^^ ' 


^■ 


:%:■ 


fe*y 


l^CART^. 


5tor  from 
n  of  the 

larJy  ex- 
d>  at  the 
ashiora- 
'  wishec* 
)  though 
ation  of 

0  ample 
instant 

nedthe 
itleman 
K  short, 
that  of 
ppear^ 

1  ■.;.• 
?»» 

plea- 
reply, 
upon 
m  of 

ilais, 
me." 
h  to 

and 

)nce 

an 

her 

ise» 

to 
\irs     AV  - 

he  ^ 

th 


extreme  violence,  withdrew  the  necessary  equilibrium 
from  his  companion.  Falling  in  a  singular  position, 
this  unfortunate  personage  now  left  exposed  to  view  a 
pair  of  legs,,  which  might  have  served  as  representa- 
tives of  those  of  the  knight  of  Windsor.  At  this  mo- 
ment, a  sudden  plunge  of  the  vessel  threw  the  tall  gen- 
tleman off  his  legs,  and  immediately  across  the  body  of 
the  lady,  oiTering  to  the  admiration  of  the  delighted 
passengers,  a  more  animated  figure  of  a  cross  than  had 
ever  before  been  represented  in  a  similar  manner.  Their 
arms,  meanwhile,  were  far  from  proving  unnecessary 
appendages,  those  of  the  lady  being  warmly  employed 
in  boxing  the  fallen  culprit's  ears ;  while  those  of  the 
latter,  more  peaceably  <Usposed,  caught  at  every  object 
within  his  reach,  in  order  to  extricate  him  from  his 
situation.  At  length,  as  a  last  resource,  he  grasped  at 
the  leg  of  an  elderly  gentleman  wrapped  in  a  plaid  cloak, 
leaning  over  the  side  of  the  vessel,  and  very  unwillingly 
disgorging  a  breakfsfst  which  had  cost  him  half  a  crown 
at  the  London  Hotel.  The  person  thus  assailed,  d  Pim- 
proviste,  not  having  time  to  secure  himself,  soon  came 
also  to  the  deck,  uttering,  as  he  fell,  the  very  pathetic 
exclamation  of  "  Blood  and  wounds !  what  do  you 
mean  ?" 

At  length,  the  two  gentlemen  succeeded  in  regaining 
their  feet,  when  Clifford,  who  had  been  a  silent  specta- 
tor of  the  scene,  attracted  by  the  cries  of  the  lady,  and 
the  unfeeling  mirth  of  the  passengers,  came  forward  to 
the  assistance  of  the  former.  Raising  her,  though  not 
without  some  difficulty,  from  the  deck,  he  offered  to  con- 
duct her  to  the  cabin,  where  several  berths  were  at  that 
moment  unoccupied. 

The  ire  of  the  injured  personage  was  somewhat  ap- 
peased by  the  polite  manner  of  Delmaine,  who,  mildly 
renewing  his  offer  of  service,  tendered  the  assistance  of 
his  arm. 

"  Thank  you,  sir,  you  are  really  a  gentleman,"  voci- 
ferated the  dame ;  "  but  as  for  that  fellow,  who  is  starch- 
ed and  stayed  like  a  dandy,  it  is  well  for  him  that  he  is 


>i 


■^r 


^ 


iCkKT^, 


going  any  where  but  to  Paris,  otherwise  my  son  would 
nnd  him  out,  and  punish  him  for  an  impertinent,  that  he 
is.    I'll  have  him  know — "  ■:  ^ 

The  rest  of  the  philippic  was  lost  to  those  above,  the 
unwieldy  frame  of  the  speaker  having  disappeared  along 
the  steps  conducting  to  the  cabin. 

The  effect  produced  by  this  speech,  on  the  person 
whose  extreme  rudeness  had  called  it  forth,  was  obvious. 
The  expression  of  his  countenance  had  entirely  changed, 
and  he  stood  in  the  attitude  of  one  sensible  of  a  fault, 
and  studying  the  means  by  which  a  reparation  might 
be  accomplished.  ' 

In  a  few  minutes,  his  determination  appeared  to  be 
formed,  and,  hastening  below,  he  letl  the  curious  and 
gaping  crowd  to  comment  at  leisure  on  the  singularity 
of  his  conduct,  and  the  probable  cause  of  his  descent ; 
while,  as  usual  in  such  cases,  and  in  strict  conformity 
with  the  propensity  of  the  animal  man,  some  half-dozen 
followed  at  intervals,  and  under'  various  pretexts,  in 
order  to  gain  wherewith  to  amuse  themselves  and  friemL 
on  their  journey. 

The  mcreased  violence  of  the  wind  rendering  the 
motion  of  the  vessel  excessively  unpleasant,  and  the 
rain  beginning  to  fall  rather  heavily,  Delmaine  was  soon 
glad  to  follow  their  example.  Throwing  himself  into  a 
vacant  berth,  he  attempted  to  remove,  by  compression, 
the  disagreeable  sick  headache  almost  invariably  pro- 
duced by  the  noise  and  odour  of  steam. 

The  scene  liad  wholly  changed.  Harmony  and  good 
humour  appeared  to  have  been  restored  between  the 
contending  parties,  and  the  recent  offender  had  adopted 
an  amiability  of  manner,  towards  the  object  of  his  late 
disgust,  which  could  not  fail  to  surprise  individuals  so 
inquisitive  as  the  generality  of  those  who  had  witnessed 
the  original  rupture.  Several  whispered  wonderings, 
and  expressive  glances,  attested  the  workings  of  curiosi- 
ty; but  it  seemed  neither  the  inclination  of  the  gentle- 
man, nor  the  intention  of  the  lady,  to  throw  any  light 
on  the  significant  imiles  of  the  few  who  had  been  spec- 


^six.i 


JiiiniiWrWii  ii«ii»iti>i,«)»M»««i 


l^CARTlg. 


11 


son  would 
»t,  that  he 

above,  the 
ired  along 

iie  person 
s  obvious, 
changed, 
f  a  fauh, 
i>n  might 

ed  to  be 
ious  and 
igularity 
descent ; 
nformity 
Jf-dozen 
texts.,  ill 

IfriencL 

ing  the 
nd  the 
as  soon 
f  into  a 
'ession, 
y  pro- 

Jgood 

en  the 

lopted 

is  late 

als  so 

lessed 

•ings, 

riosi- 

»ntle- 

light 

spec- 


tators of  the  reconciliation,  and  who  absolutely  laboured 
under  the  weight  of  a  secret  which  they  buined  to  dis- 
close. The  latter  had  devested  herself  of  her  outer 
garment,  and  appeared  busily  occupied  in  arranging 
the  before-mentioned  dresses  of  Misses  Fanny  and  Lucy, 
the  enumeration  of  which  had  led  to  her  catastrophe ; 
it  being  found  impossible  to  dispose  of  them  in  the  ordi- 
nary manner,  their  voluminous  proportions  admitted, 
at  least,  of  the  passage  of  tha  body,  compressed  as  if  by 
a  strait  waistcoat,  and  at  the  great  hazard  of  rending  in 
twain  those  very  valuable  specimens  of  city  taste  and 
elegance.  While  busied  in  passing  the  sleeves  under 
her  arms,  and  securing  them  by  the  aid  of  strings,  pins, 
&c.,  her  eye  unluckily  caught  the  fixed  stare  of  a  rough, 
weather-beaten  soldier,  with  a  pair  of  mustachios  not 
unlike  those  of  a  tiger-cat.  This  severe  looking  object, 
lay  extended  in  a  berth  immediately  opposite  to  that  oc- 
cupied by  Delmaine,  and  was  contemplating  her  move- 
ments with  a  very  natural  and  justifiable  portion  of 
surprise.  The  idea  of  his  being  a  custom-house  officer, 
immediately  occurred  to  her,  and,  turning  to  her  com- 
panion with  evident  panic — 

"  Do,  my  dear  Mr.  Darte,  only  look  at  that  man  with 
the  mustachios ;  I  am  sure  he  is  a  custom-house  officer — 
I  know  it  from  his  eye — I  shall  lose  all  I  have — what 
will  Lucy  and  Fanny  say  ?" 

"  Pardon  me,  madam,"  returned  Mr.  Darte,  inter- 
rupting her  chain  of  exclamation,  uttered  in  as  doleful 
a  tone  as  the  roughest  of  female  voices  could  possibly 
attain — ''  you  are  in  error;  that  person  cannot  be  at- 
tached to  the  custom-house.  He  is  in  the  undress  of  a 
French  officer,  and  his  bomiet  de  police — " 

"Police,  ah!  yes;  I  was  certain  lie  belonged  to  the 
police — pray  ofier  him  half  a  crown — that  is  much  less 
than  the  duty^  you  know." 

"  Really,  madam,"  replied  her  companion,  witii  a 
liumility  rendered  more  remarkable  by  the  recollection 
of  his  former  hauteur,  "you  misunderstand  me.  The 
forage  cap  worn  by  military  men  is  termed,  in  France, 


I 


y 


12 


l^CARTf. 


a  honMt  depoUcef  and  that  which  he  wears  indicates  his 
claim  to  the  rank  of  an  officer." 
.^>.  The  words,  mustachios,  bonnet  de  police f  France,  and 
v"  French  officer,  together  with  the  occasional  glances  of 
the  passengers,  leading  the  soldier,  who' was  totally  ig- 
norant of  the  language,  to  consider  himself  the  object  of 
some  ill-timed  plaisanterie,  he  started  from  his  recum- 
bent position,  and  twisting  his  mustachios  with  one 
hand,  while  with  the  other,  he  placed  his  bonnet  in  an 
attitude  of  defiance,  demanded,  in  his  own  tongue,  and 
in  terms  of  extreme  volubility,  the  subject  of  their  con- 
versation. /■■:^>':".'  . -i;.^;:  .'■  . 

The  gentleman  explained,  while  the  lady,  alive  only 
to  her  fears  of  custom-house  officers,  and  fancying  his 
object  was  to  extort  money,  drew  forth  a  dirty  green 
silk  purse,  and  took  from  it  a  half-crown  piece,  which 
she  tendered  as  unceremoniously  as  she  would  have 
done  to  a  beggar  in  the  street. 

The  fury  of  the  Frenchman  was  at  its  height — his 
eyes  flashed  fire,  and  he  absolutely  foamed  at  the  mouth. 
Turning  fiercely  to  the  person  he  had  at  first  accosted, 
and  in  language  half  inarticulate  from  emotion — "  Sans 
doute.  Monsieur,  vous  etes  le  mari  de  cette  dame,  et 
vous  me  rendrez  raison — Je  suis  militsure.  Monsieur — 
Je  suis  Fran^ais,  Monsieur — Je  suis  homme  d'honneur, 
Monsieur — quelle  indignite!"  and  the  irascible  soldier 
continued  to  rant  and  beat  his  breast,  until  it  resounded 
like  the  hollow  of  a  kettle-drum. 

Again  the  gentleman  explained,  and,  endeavouring 
to  show  the  error  of  the  lady,  as  rather  a  source  of  mirth 
than  a  motive  for  anger,  sought  to  appease  the  choler 
of  the  petulant  Gaul. 

"  N'importe,  Monsieur ;  je  me  trouve  insulte,  et  vous 
me  rendrez  raison — sac-r-r-r-r."  The  noise  produced 
by  the  articulation  of  the  last  expressive  word,  was  so 
like  the  springing  of  a  watchman's  rattle,  that  the  seve- 
ral females  in  the  cabin,  as  if  by  one  common  instinct, 
stopped  their  ears  with  their  fingers,  while  one  or  two 
burst  into  an  immoderate  fit  of  laughter. 


# 


iCAKtt. 


m 


This  was  adding  fuel  to  the  fire  of  the  oflfended  party. 
His  antagonist,  however,  wanted  not  courage.   Finding 
every  demonstration  of  a  peaceful  nature  ineflfectual,  he ' 
coolly  and  emphatically  observed-— 

"  I  have  not  the  honour  of  being  that  lady's  husband, 
sir;"  ("  qudhownewrr  muttered  the  Frenchman ;) "  but, 
as  she  i<>  without  any  other  escort,  and  you  have  thouffht 
proper  to  make  me  responsible  for  an  error  originttTng 
in  herself,  I  shall  be  happy  to  afford  you  that  redress 
which  you  seem  to  require.  Any  arrangements  will  be 
better  made  on  deck."    And  he  motioned  to  withdraw. 

The  determined  manner  in  which  this  reply  was  made, 
acted  at  once  on  the  vehement  soldier ;  who,  assuming  a 
milder  tone,  declared  he  could  not  think  of  rendering^ 
Monsieur  responsible  for  the  actions  of  Madame,  with 
whom,  it  appeared,  he  was  in  no  way  connected  by  tlie 
ties  of  relationship.  He  professed  himself  perfectly  satis- 
fied with  the  first  explanation,  and,  after  some  dozen  incli- 
nations, which  were  returned  by  an  equal  number  of  awk- 
ward reverences  on  the  part  of  the  unwieldy  Mri.  Elverfi, 
retired  to  digest  any  remaining  bile,  at  leisure,  in  hid 
berth. 

The  person  who  had  given  rise  to  this  conAiiion,  be- 
ing utterly  ignorant  of  the  French  language,  and  conse- 
quently unacquainted  with  the  nature  of  the  scene  she  had 
occasioned,  could  not  avoid  expressing  aitonishment, 
that  her  '<  good  English  silver,"  as  she  termed  it,  had 
been  refused,  and  with  no  less  satisfaction  at  being  spared 
the  necessity  of  making  so  material  a  sacrifice,  returned 
« it  to  her  purse.  Her  champion,  however,  conceiving  it 
proper  to  explain  the  error  into  which  she  had  fallen, 
together  with  the  consequences  it  had  threatened  to  en- 
tail, disclosed  as  much  of  the  subject  of  altercation  m  lie 
deemed  sufficient  to  render  her  more  circumiptct  in 
Aiture.  *■-.  ■  .:r-  .'■--••■■      •«    .•■■.''    .-        ,-•,,■  ••  ,/• 

Peace  was,  for  a  second  time,  restored ;  and  a  very 
amiable  disquisition  ensued  on  the  French  character,  in 
which  the  opinions  of  sagacious  irdividuals,  who  had 
never  before  lost  sight  of  their  respective  habitations, 

Vol.  I.  2 


.  v,;'! 


y 


14 


:i^CARTl^. 


were  delivered  with  moch  freedom,  and  more  prejudice ; 
when  the  sudden  cessation  of  the  action  of  steam,  and  the 
increased  pitching  of  the  vessel,  in  announcing  the  ter- 
mination of  the  voyage,  drew  the  pasiengeri,  conAisedly 
and  clamorously,  on  deck.  Their-destination  had,  how- 
ever, been  guned  only  in  part.  They  were  then  in  the 
offing,  but,  in  consequence  of  the  reflux  of  the  tide,  it 
was  found  impossible  to  enter  the  harbour*  No  alter- 
native was  len,  for  those  who  did  not  prefer  being  tossed 
about  at  the  pleasure  of  the  elements,  but  to  avail  them- 
selves of  the  boats,  several  of  which  were  rapidly  ap- 
proaching, and  manoeuvring  to  reach  the  veiiel  without 
accident.  .< 

Men,  women,  children,  spaniels,  night-bngs,  and  um- 
brellas, were  huddled,  without  order  or  distinction,  into 
each  boat  as  it  arrived,  and  packed  off  like  so  many 
bales  of  merchandise ;  the  former  part  of  the  cargo  to  be 
bid  for  by  every  hotel  keeper  in  the  place,  whose  nume- 
rous and  annoying  agents,  thronging  the  piers  and  infest- 
ing the  public  streets,  are  instructed  to  assail  every  pas- 
senger on  his  landing,  and  to  fasten,  like  harpies,  on 
those  who  have  the  weakness  to  yield  to  their  clamorous 
importunity. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  deck  was  cleared,  so  that,  with 
the  exception  of  a  gentleman  and  his  daughter,  who 
had  occupied  the  body  of  their  carriage  during  the  pas- 
sage, Delmaine  and  his  uncle  weve  now  the  only  re- 
maining persons.  The  last  boat  had  approached,  and 
Sir  Edward,  being  assisted  on  deck,  recogniied  an  old 
friend  in  the  stranger,  a  tall  handsome  man,  apparently 
about  forty-five,  whose  deportment  bespoke  the  gentle- 
man and  the  soldier. 

The  hurried  forms  of  introduction  being  gone  through, 
and  the  whole  party  with  their  attendants  embarked,  the 
boat  was  pushed  off,  but,  owing  either  to  tiie  awkward- 
ness of  the  crew,  or  the  mismanagement  of  the  helmsman, 
they  where  in  the  greatest  danger  of  foundering,  ami 
all  was,  for  the  space  of  a  few  minutes,  confusion  and 
dismay.     Excessively  terrified,  the  young  ludy  graspcil 


!  !, 


<«««i  n.ti»iiiiMi||j  II  „^,t., 


tCAKrt, 


15 


the  arm  of  her  father,  whose  anxiety  for  his  child  spoke 
in  every  feature  of  his  intelligent  countenance.  Sir  £d-  ^ 
ward  stamped,  regardless  of  his  gout—- the  boatmen  W 
swore — all  commanded — ^none  obeyed,  and  their  danger 
was  very  imminent.  At  length,  the  bark,  one  gunwale  of 
which  had  been  nearly  a  minute  under  water,  was  resto- 
red to  its  proper  position ;  and  although  the  violence  of 
the  tempest  dashed  the  waves  over  their  heads  in  a  fear- 
ful manner,  the  harbour  was  finally  gained  without  fur- 
ther accident,  much  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  crowds  col- 
lected by  interest  or  curiosity  on  the  quays,  who  expect- 
ed every  moment  to  see  the  boat  overwhelmed  by  the 
magnitude  of  the  sea. 

Their  names  and  addresses  being  left  at  the  custom- 
house, our  voyagers  lost  no  time  in  repairing  to  Quillacq's^ 
wither  the  domestic  of  Sir  Edward  had  been  despatched 
in  one  of  the  first  boats,  to  prepare  apartments  and  an  ex- 
cellent fire.       .     . . 


CHAPTER  II. 


If  voyaging  by  steam  has  its  advantages,  it  is  at 
least  attended  by  one  serious  inconvenience  in*  bad 
weather,  and  possibly  there  are  few  persons  who  know 
not  from  painful  experience,  that  a  headache,  produced 
by  the  motion  of  a  steam-vessel,  is  infinitely  more  vio- 
lent than  any  other  to  which  poor  flesh  is  heir.  Such 
at  least  was  the  opinion  of  our  party,  who,  after  having 
partaken  of  a  few  slight  refreshments,  were  glad  to  re- 
pair at  an  early  hour  to  their  respective  apartments; 
Sir  Edward  gravely  remarking,  as  he  slowly  ascended 
the  staircase,  that  his  curiosity  was  at  length  gratified, 
and  much  he  feared  to  his  cost :  the  humidity  and  cold 
had  in  some  measure  aroused  his  dormant  tormentor. 


Itt! 


l^CART^. 


Strong  symptoms  of  whose  irritation  were  momentarily 
becoming  more  evident. 

It  was  not  until  a  late  hoitr  on  the  following  morning, 
that  the  party  appeared  in  the  breakfast-room.  Del- 
maine,  however,  had  been  some  time  risen,  and  was  then 
engaged  in  the  perusal  of  the  Journal  des  Dibats,  con- 
taining a  bulletin  of  the  French  King's  declining  health, 
when  Miss  Stanley  entered,  reclining  on  the  arm  of  her 
father,  both  yet  languid  from  the  effect  of  their  fatigue. 
Throwing  aside  the  paper,  our  hero  hastened  to  receive 
them ;  and  as  the  young  lady  replied  to  hijdh^ite  in- 
quiries after  her  health,  he  fancied  he  had  nflftfl^held 
a  woman  more  strikingly  interesting. 

Helen  Stanley  was  then  in  her  twenty-secftid  year. 
Her  figure  was  of  that  height  and  proportion  which  give 
to  the  majestic  a  certain  sylph-like  flexibility  of  move- 
ment, leaving  the  judgment  in  suspense  between  admi- 
ration and  love.  Without  being  strictly  regular,  her 
features  were  handsome ;  and  the  paleness  of  her  com- 
plexion contrasting  with  two  full  dark  eyes,  whose  gene- 
ral expression  was  that  of  languor,  while  they  were 
occi  ionally  lighted  up  by  all  the  fires  of  enthusiasm, 
indicated  a  mind  given  to  profound  reflection.  Her 
hair,  of  a  length  and  thickness  common  only  to  those 
who  have  derived  their  being  under  scorching  suns, 
was  of  a  dark  auburn,  giving  an  air  of  luxury  to  her 
whole  person,  which  it  was  impossible  to  observe  un- 
moved. Her  arm,  delicately  white,  was  terminated  by  a 
hand  of  exquisite  proportion.  Her  movements,  though 
free  and  unstudied,  bore  that  character  of  voluptuousness 
which  is  in  general  the  effect  of  coquetry;  but  which 
in  her,  sprung  only  from  the  ardent  feelings  manifested 
in  every  line  of  her  speaking  countenance.  Such  was 
the  person  of  Miss  Stanley — ^the  being  formed  after  the 
model  Delmaine  had  ever  fancied  of  female  beauty.  No 
wonder,  that  in  contemplating  the  dangerous  syren,  he 
should  have  forgotten  that  his  uncle  was  an  invalid, 
and  incapable  of  descending  without  assistance. 

Recalled  to  himself  by  a  question  from  the  colonel. 


I^CART^. 


f» 


nentarily 

morning, 
n.  Del- 
was  then 
atSf  con- 
g  health, 
m  of  her 
'  fatigue. 
5  receive 
^ite  in- 
Ifteheld 

nd  year, 
lich  give 
►f  move- 
n  admi- 
dar,  her 
ler  com- 
se  gene- 
ey  were 
lusiasm, 
I.  Her 
to  those 
g  suns, 

to  her 
ve  un- 

d  by  a 
though 
3usness 

which 
lifested 
ch  was 

*ter  the 
No 
he 

ivalid, 


en 


nlonel, 


lie  left  the  room,  and  soon  re-appeared  with  Sir  Edward,. 
who»  congratulating  his  friends  on  their  comparatively 
good  looks,  and  himself  on  the  vagueness  of  his  appre- 
heniioni,  added,  that  the  most  sensible  thing  they  could 
do  WRI  to  pay  their  court  to  the  excellent  breakfast 
smoking  on  the  table — a  proposal  which  met  not  with 
one  disienting  voice.  t^- 

The  conversation  turning  on  the  singularity  of  the 
meeting  of  the  two  friends,  at  the  moment  when  one 
wai  supposed  to  be  several  thousand  miles  distant,  the 
colonel  mformed.Sir  Edward  that  ill  health  had  com> 
pelled  him  to  abandon  the  luxurious  climate  of  the  east 
for  ever,  and  that,  by  the  advice  of  his  physicians,  he 
was  then  proceeding  to  the  South  of  France,  where  it 
was  his  intention  to  remain  until  time  and  regimen 
tthould  effect  his  restoration.  He  added,  that  he  had 
made  no  other  stay  in  London  than  was  absolutely 
necensary  for  his  own  and  daughter's  repose ;  and 
pleaded  the  determination  he  had  formed  of  partial 
seclusion,  as  an  excuse  for  not  having  waited  on  the 
companion  of  his  younger  days. 

tfnwilling  to  admit  the  apology,  the  baronet  good- 
humouredly  avowed  his  intention  to  revenge  himself  for 
his  friend's  neglect,  by  insisting  on  his  passing  with 
him  the  period  intended  for  his  own  sojourn  in  the 
French  capital. 

With  a  languid  smile,  the  colonel  turned  to  his 
daughter.  "  Do  you  hear  the  decision  of  Sir  Edward, 
Helen  f  And  are  you  disposed  to  acknowledge  his 
muhorityf" 

The  fine  eyes  of  Helen  were  lighted  up  with  mo- 
mrntnry  vivacity  ;  and  she  hastened  to  assure  her  father 
ihut  the  wishes  of  Sir  Edward  Delmaine  were  too  much 
in  unison  with  her  own  feelings,  to  meet  with  the  slight- 
est opposition  from  her. 

Our  hero,  who,  notwithstanding  his  admiration  of  the 
Mpeaker,  had  not  found  his  appetite  at  all  impeded  by 
the  occasional  homage  of  his  eyes,  heard  this  engage- 
ment entered  into  with  pleasure ;  for  in  the  course  of 

.  .  .  2» 


mmmim^j' 


18 


ifiCART^. 


their  meal,  he  had  discovered  much  of  mind  in  the  va- 
rious remarks  elicited  by  their  conversation,  and  he 
longed  for  further  opportunity  of  forming  a  more  de- 
cided opinion. 

A  message  was  here  delivered  from  the  colonel's 
coachman,  statuig  that  one  of  the  carriage  springs  had 
been  broken  in  the  landing,  and  that  it  could  not  be 
repaired  in  less  than  two  days. 

''Just  like  the  French,"  muttered  Sir  Edward: 
"  twenty  years  ago  they  were  as  much  advanced  as  they 
are  at  present,  and  what  in  England  would  be  done  in 
a  few  hours,  cannot  here  be  accomplished  in  as  many 
days." 

As  Calais  offered  little  to  attract  the  attention  of  the 
stranger,  its  principal  curiosity  being  the  impress  of  the 
late  king's  foot  on  the  pier,  carefully  preserved  in  brass, 
and  ostentatiously  pointed  out  to  the  visiter,  the  depar- 
ture of  our  travellers  had  been  fixed  on  for  the  same 
day.  In  this  dilemma,  it  was  deemed  necessary  to  have 
recourse  to  the  master  of  the  hotel,  and  Monsieur  Quil- 
lacq  was  accordingly  summoned. 

With  reverences  innumerable.  Monsieur  Quillacq  en- 
tered the  breakfast-room,  and  in  reply  to  a  question 
from  the  colonel,  professed  himself  quite  au  desespoir  at 
his  inability  to  procure  him  a  carriage  sufficiently  large 
to  contain  two  persons  with  their  attendants.  Several 
English  families,  who  had  arrived  the  precedih^  day, 
had  taken  all  the  chaises  de  poste  in  his  possession,  and 
he  greatly  feared  it  would  be  difficult  to  find  one  suffi- 
ciently commodious  in  Calais,  a  great  demand  having 
been  made  for  conveyances  at  all  the  hotels,  by  the 
travellers  of  the  preceding  day. 

Amid  the  disappointment  produced  by  this  informa- 
tion, an  idea  occurred  to  Delmaine  which  promised  to 
remove  every  difficulty.  He  accordingly  proposed  that 
his  uncle,  the  colonel,  and  Miss  Stanley,  with  a  part  of 
their  domestics,  should  occupy  the  carriage  of  Sir  Ed- 
ward, leaving  the  remainder  of  the  servants  to  follow 
with  the  second  vehicle  as  soon  as  repaired,  while  he 


:% 


MMiliaiiMiwiiMi^ 


tCAUTt, 


secared  a  seat  for  the  followSng  morning  in  the  dili- 
gence. .>*'.,•;■''*.;.■*:     :  .    ••.:'  .V,-  ■■'ft 

This  suggestion,  warmly  seconded  by  Sir  Edward, 
was,  afVer  some  hesitation  on  the  part  of  their'  friends, 
unwilling  to  subject  Clifford  to  the  inconvenience,  finally 
adopted,  and  in  the  course  of  a  few  hours  their  tempo- 
rary adieus  were  exchanged,  and  the  carriage  was 
driven  off  as  fast  as  five  post  horses,  excited  to  their  ut- 
most speed  by  the  multiplied  reverberations  of  the 
postilion's  whip,  could  possibly  convey  it  over  the 
heavy  and  irregular  pavement.  ^^  >  «^ 

The  morning  was  passed  by  our  hero  in  visiting  the 
English  reading-room  in  the  Place  d'Armes,  and  in 
lounging  on  the  pier,  where  parties  of  his  countrywomen 
were  grouped  in  such  numbers  as  to  make  him  half 
imagine  himself  on  his  native  shore.  The  shrill  cries  of 
the  sturdy  poissardeSj  preferred  in  accent  almost  unin- 
telligible, however,  reminded  him  of  his  error. 

Dmner  being  announced  soon  after  his  return  from 
his  ramble,  he  sought  to  shake  off  at  the  t€^le  ePhdiCf  an 
unpleasant  feeling  of  solitude  that  had  gradually  been 
creeping  over  him  since  the  departure  of  his  friends, 
though  he  could  not  well  determine  whether  it  originated 
In  regret  at  the  separation  from  his  uncle  alone,  or 
whether  another  individual  of  the  party  had  contributed 
to  call  it  forth.  The  latter  motive  he  was  unwilling  to 
ct>nfess  to  himself,  and  bringing  a  few  glasses  of  Cham- 
paign to  hit  aid,  soon  found  in  the  exhilarating  beve- 
rage, a  temporary  relief  from  the  reflections  into  which 
he  had  been  so  disagreeably  plunged. 

The  evening  was  spent  in  visiting  the  Calais  theatre, 
where  a  very  inferior  company  of  comedians  were  then 
engaged.  The  entertainment  consisted  of  the  inimitable 
'« Tartuffe"  of  Moliere,  and  the  "  Soldat  Laboureur," 
a  piece  of  decided  popularity  in  France,  and  calculated 
to  awaken  the  liveliest  recollections  of  their  former  glo- 
ry. For  the  wretched  performance  of  the  first,  Del- 
maine  was  in  some  measure  compensated  by  that  of  the 


mai^Msnif 


20 


l^CART^. 


latter,  in  which  every  character  seemed  to  be  felt  and 
understood.  ■  .'i\ 

Among  the  most  remarkable  of  the  English  audience, 
was  the  celebrated  G  B— — 11,  of  fashionable  me- 

mory. Delmaine,  who,  in  common  with  all  mankind, 
had  heard  much  of  his  skill  in  tying  a  cravat,  and  the 
delicacy  of  his  taste  in  perfumes,  felt  some  little  curiosity 
to  know  how  far  he  merited  his  reputation  in  these  mo- 
mentous points ;  and,  as  he  occupied  the  adjoining  box, 
he  found  no  difficulty  in  obtaining  a  perfect  view  of  the 
'*  Lion."  Notwithstanding  the  most  scrupulous  atten- 
tion, however,  he  could  not  perceive  anything  in  the 
"  knot  divine,"  to  entitle  it  to  rank  above  those  of  our 
less  veteran  exquisites ;  and  he  conceived  that  he  was  in 
the  habit  of  using  nearlv  as  good  perfumes  himself. 
The  reputation  of  the  exile,  however,  he  knew  was  too 
firmly  established  to  be  shaken  by  the  breath  of  detrac- 
tion ;  and  he  was  compelled  to  admit,  that  whatever 
might  be  his  individual  opinion,  the  circumstance  alone 
of  B  11  having  deprecated  the  idea  of  taking  malt 
with  cheese,  was,  in  itself,  sufficient  to  stamp  him  with 
immortality,  and  entitle  him  at  once  to  the  admiration 
and  imitation  of  Fashion's  noblest  votaries. 

The  heavy  rumbling  noise  of  the  diligence  at  an  early 
hour  on  the  following  morning,  announced  the  moment 
of  departure  to  our  hero,  who,  never  yet  having  visited 
France,  was  not  a  little  surprised  to  find  this  cumbrous 
vehicle  to  be  the  machine  in  which  he  was  to  perform  his 
journey  to  the  capital.  Five  stout  and  vigorous  horses, 
whose  trappings  were  various  as  their  own  hues,  stood 
neighing  and  pawing  in  their  harness ;  and  the  condiic- 
teur  vociferating  loudly  for  the  Voyageur  Aiiglais^  he 
hastily  finished  his  cofiee,  and  threw  himself  into  his  seat ; 
when  the  postilion,  literally  jumping  into  the  enormous 
boots  which  stood  waiting  ior  his  reception  in  the  yard, 
mounted  the  near  wheeler,  and  drove  olT  at  full  speed, 
drowning  the  adieus  of  the  bystanders,  the  clamorous 
Appeals  of  the  beggars,  and  the  yelping  of  the  curs,  in 
the  more  deafening  sounds  produced  by  his  whip. 


JMMHittMMNMMlMMM 


tcAwrt* 


at 


Perhaps  there  are  few  travellers  who  have  not  found 
the  road  from  Calais  to  Boulogne  excessively  dull  and 
monotonous,  especially  during  the  hotter  season  of  the 
year ;  when  the  eye,  fatigued  by  the  oppressive  rays  of 
a  meridian  sun  reflected  on  the  white  roads  and  clifls, 
vainly  turns  to  rest  on  some  point  of  relief  in  the  dis- 
tance; or,  discouraged  by  the  long  extent  of  barren 
country  which  it  embraces,  feels  desirous  to  shut  out  ex- 
terior objects  altogether,  until  a  more  animated  and  less 
unbroken  prospect  shall  be  offered  to  the  view. 

Such  at  least  were  the  feelings  of  Delmaine,  who  had 
no  sooner  passed  the  barriers  and  suburbs  of  Calais, 
than  he  withdrew  his  gaze  from  the  dull  surrounding 
country,  and  amused  himself  with  observing  the  compag- 
nom  de  voyage^  all  of  whom  were  French,  and  consisted 
of  a  female  and  two  men. 

Immediately  opposite  to-  ^im  sat  one  of  the  latter, 
whose  conversation  and  appearance  bespoke  the  mer- 
chant; and  in  the  next  angle,  a  short,  vulgar-looking 
man,  who  had  all  the  air  of  being,  what  he  subsequently 
avowed  himself — an  officer  of  infantry.  The  seat  on 
the  right  of  our  hero  was  occupied  by  the  female,  a 
woman  who  appeared  to  have  numbered  nearly  forty 
summers.  Her  person  was  full  and  commanding ;  her 
skin  of  a  fairness  not  usually  met  with  in  France,  and 
her  blonde  tresses  fell  in  luxuriance  over  her  forehead. 
Her  eyes  were  of  a  light  blue,  and  she  had  the  air  of 
being  what  the  French  so  energetically  term,  unefemme 
voluptveuse :  yet  she  was  not  handsome ;  for  although 
her  features  were  not  deficient  in  regularity  or  expres- 
sion, her  teeth  were  discoloured,  and  her  face,  though 
fair,  was  not  free  from  certain  spots,  which  in  vulgar 
English  are  termed  grog-blossoms.  She  held  a  child 
of  four  or  five  yeurs  of  age  on  her  knees,  whose  white 
locks  and  skin  fully  marked  it  as  her  own. 

The  French  are  not  long  in  making  their  advances 
towards  acquaintance.  The  officer  broke  the  ice  'by 
some  cursory  observation.    The  lady  replied.    The 


fV 


JWa' 


■  X 


%' 


I 


22 


^CAl^Tlg. 


merchant  introduced  a  remark,  and  the  conversation  be- 
came ^neral  between  the  trio.  ^' 

In  five  minutes,  the  merchant  had  revealed  his  name 
and  quality,  the  officer  his  rank  and  profession,  and  the 
lady's  history  was  entered  upon. 

Madame  Dorjeville  announced  herself  as  the  widow 
of  a  colonel  of  cuirassiers,  who  had  fallen  a  victim  to  the 
severity  of  wounds  received  at  Waterloo.  The  period 
which  had  succeeded  to  this  event,  she  said  she  had  spent 
in  America,  on  a  visit  to  some  connexions  of  her  lamented 
husband,  residing  in  Philadelphia,  from  whence  she  was 
now  on  her  return  to  Paris,  for  the  purpose  of  applying 
for  a  pension  from  government.  This  affair  terminated, 
it  was  her  intention  to  retire  to  her  native  province  in  the 
south,  and  there  devote  herself  to  the  education  of  her 
child.  The  language  she  made  use  of  was  elegant : 
her  tone  and  manner  were  those  of  a  woman  accustomed 
to  good  society ;  but  our  hero  could  not  reconcile  these 
qualities  with  the  freedom  of  a  disclosure  thus  made  to 
persons  who  were  evidently  strangers. 

Both  the  merchant  and  the  soldier  had  listened 
eagerly  to  her  recital,  as  if  reluctant  to  lose  a  word,  and 
they  were  now  loud  in  their  offers  of  service.  Any 
thing  in  the  world  they  could  possibly  do  for  her,  they 
professed  themselves  ready  and  willing  to  undertake  j 
and  they  hoped  she  would  honour  them  with  her  com- 
mands. Meanwhile,  they  vied  with  each  other  in  atten- 
tion to  the  ciii!d ;  and,  vowing  it  charmant,  un  petit 
ange^  un  amour j  &tc.,  left  none  of  its  wants  unattended 
or  ungratified.  Madame  Dorjeville  placed  her  hand 
repeatedly  on  her  heart — was  overwhelmed  by  their 
politeness,  and  confessed  her  inability  to  reply  to  so 
much  considerate  attention  as  she  ought.  In  the  course 
of  conversation,  and  while  taking  out  his  pocket-hand- 
kerchief, the  merchant  accidentally  discovered  a  large 
silk  purse  filled  with  Napoleons.  It  was,  however,  in- 
stantly restored  to  its  place. 

Although  Englishmen  may,  at  first  sight,  deem  the 
name  of  diligence  ill  applied  to  the  conveyances  used 


tiStty  Twnriw  m<Vfmmi»-» 


tCARTt. 


4va\ 


22 


in  France,  they  must  eventually  admit  that  travelling  in,^ 
that  country  is  nearly  as  expeditious  as  it  is  in  England ; 
and  when  it  is  considered,  that  instead  of  a  smooth  hard 
road,  the  wheels  of  the  vehicle  have  to  run  over  a  great 
portion  of  paved  country,  in  which  those  of  a  carriage 
of  a  lighter  description  would  prove  of  little  service,  the 
vaunted  advantages  of  celerity  of  movement  on  which 
we  so  much  pride  ourselves,  will  appear  less  the  result 
of  perfection  in  our  travelling  system,  than  of  the  excel- 
lence of  our  roads  ;  neither  can  it  be  denied,  that  scarcely 
more  time  is  taken  up  in  the  relays  in  one  country  than 
in  the  other.  Within  the  last  ten  years,  travelling  in 
France  has  become  much  more  expeditious ;  and  the 
Journey  from  Paris  to  Boulonge  performed  in  seven-and- 
twenty  hours,  as  it  is  at  present,  is  certainly  an  evidence 
of  the  truth  of  this  assertion.  One  decided  advantage 
which  the  French  diligence  have  over  the  English  stage- 
coach is,  independently  of  the  easiness  of  motion,  its' 
utter  freedom  from  those  impure  odours  which  are  so 
offensive  in  the  latter,  and  which  may  be  attributed  to 
their  being  lined  with  cloth,  subject  to  frequent  humidi- 
ty, instead  of  plush,  as  is  invariably  the  case  in  France. 

Boulogne,  Moiitreuil,  &c.,  were  successively  passed 
by  our  travellers ;  and  the  new-made  acquaintance  of  the 
French  party  was  rapidly  ripening  into  intimacy.  They 
]iad  dined  at  Moutreuil,  and  at  midnight  alighted  al 
Amieus  to  partake  of  a  bad  supper,  which  they  were 
compelled,  as  usual,  to  leave  unfinished,  in  order  to  an- 
swer the  allons,  Messieurs  et  Dames,  en  route,  of  the  con- 
ductor, too  well  versed  in  the  interests  of  the  house  to 
suffer  his  charge  to  run  the  risk  of  indigestion  on  the 
way — a  service  invariably  recompensed  by  a  meal  gratis 
for  himself. 

At  Beauvais,  on  the  following  morning,  they  stopped 
to  breakfast,  and  had  scarcely  reached  the  salle  a  mail'- 
ger,  when  the  soi-disaiU  colonel's  widow,  after  a  long 
and  ineffectual  search  on  her  person,  and  in  the  diligence, 
announced  the  loss  of  her  purse,  containing  sixteen  Na- 
poleons, three  five-franc  pieces,  and  some  smaller  coin. 


1, 


'T  ■  r^' 


1^.. 


h  .  .-^ 


tfl 


^CARTl^. 


Her  new  friends  were  quite  afflicted  at  the  circumstance, 
and  warmly  sympathized  in  her  grief.  The  merchant  at 
length  suggesting  the  possibility  of  her  having  forgotten 
it  at  Amiens,  she  expressed  a  similar  belief,  and  con- 
ceived that  it  had  been  left  on  the  table  of  the  room  into 
which  she  had  been  shown  on  her  arrival.  A  courier  was 
immediately  despatched  on  horseback,  with  directions  to 
bring  it,  if  found,  to  an  address  which  she  gave  him  in 
Faris,  and  after  having  swallowed  her  breakfast  with  an 
appetite  evidently  impaired  by  her  recent  loss,  she  re- 
sumed her  seat  in  the  diligence. 

Delmaine,  who  had  preceded  the  vehicle  on  foot,  in 
order  to  regain  some  of  that  elasticity  of  which  his  un- 
easy position  during  the  night  had  robbed  him,  was  soon 
overtaken.  He  was  struck,  on  entering,  by  the  change 
of  manner  which  had  been  operated  on  his  fellow-tra- 
vellers. The  eyes  of  the  female  were  swollen,  and  her 
cheeks  bore  the  marks  of  recent  tears :  she  was  then  pen- 
sively reclining  over  her  child,  her  head  supported  by 
her  right  arm  placed  against  the  angle  of  the  carriage. 
The  ofllcer  sat  with  his  arms  folded  across  his  breast, 
and  appeared  to  have  lost  all  his  former  vivacity.  The 
merchant's  eyes  were  closed  beneath  a  pair  of  bushy  eye- 
brows, nearly  as  black  as  the  silk  bonnet  de  nuit  with 
which  his  head  was  ornamented ;  but  their  occasional 
twinkling  proved  his  aim  to  be  less  repose  than  the  ex- 
clusion of  the  objects  before  him.  The  silence  was  only 
broken  by  the  lively  and  unanswered  remarks  of  the 
child,  addressed  to  the  officer,  whose  hand  was  no  longer 
held  forth  in  token  of  amity  and  affection. 

Our  hero  sat  musing  on  the  scene  before  him,  and  was 
at  a  loss  to  account  of  a  stillness,  rendered  more  striking 
by  the  extreme  volubility  in  which  the  parties  had  pre- 
vioudy  indulged.  Madame  Dorjeville  he  naturally  con- 
ceived might  feel  some  little  disquietude  for  the  loss  she 
iiad  sustained  ;  yet,  as  there  was  some  probability  of  the 
purse  being  found  at  Amiens,  he  could  scarcely  attribute 
her  present  despondency  to  this  motive  alone ;  but  he 
could  not  find  the  slightest  clue  to  the  behaviour  of  her 


1 


mtSBmmm 


EOARTlfi. 


m 


ircumstance, 
merchant  at 
ng  forgotten 
ef,  and  con- 
le  room  into 
L  courier  was 
directions  to 
gave  him  in 
:fast  with  an 
loss,  she  re- 

on  foot,  in 

liich  his  un- 

m,  was  soon 

the  change 

>  fellow-tra- 

en,  and  her 

IS  then  pen- 

ipported  by 

le  carriage. 

his  breast, 

city.     The 

bushy  eye- 

e  nuit  with 

occasional 

lan  the  ex- 

e  was  only 

rks  of  the 

no  longer 

1,  and  was 
e  striking 
i  had  pre- 
rally  con- 
J  loss  she 
ityof  the 
attribute 
but  he 
ir  of  her 


¥ 


countrymen,  who,  instead  of  rallying  her,  and  endea- 
vouring to  offer  consolation,  were  evidently  as  studious 
to  avoid  all  communication,  as  they  had  previously  been 
to  attract  her  attention. 

A  key  to  the  mystery  was,  however,  soon  afforded : 
at  the  foot  of  a  steep  hill,  the  pace  of  the  horses  was 
slackened  for  the  ascent,  and  most  of  the  passengers 
choosing  to  alight,  Delmaine  found  himself  alone  in  the 
carriage  with  the  widow,  and  addressing  her  for  the  first 
lime,  expressed  at  once  his  regret  for  her  loss,  and  a 
hope  that  it  would  not  be  attended  by  any  serious  in- 
convenience. 

The  lady  returned  her  acknowledgments  for  the  inter- 
est he  seemed  to  entertain  in  her  favour,  and  regretted 
to  observe,  that  although  the  sum  in  question  was  a 
very  trifle,  she  felt  its  loss  as  a  severe  evil  for  the 
moment,  being  utterly  unprovided  with  other  funds  in 
Paris,  where  she  must  remain  until  a  remittance  could 
be  sent  from  her  friends  in  the  south.  She  added,  that 
she  had  already  requested  the  merchant  to  do  her  the 
favour  to  become  her  banker  for  ten  or  fifteen  Napo- 
leons, until  a  reply  to  her  letter  should  be  forwarded  with 
the  necessary  remittance  ;  but  that  he  had  very  ungal- 
lantly  declined,  under  the  plea  of  her  being  an  utter 
stranger  to  him.  The  officer,  who  had  been  caressing 
her  child  at  the  moment  of  her  application,  no  sooner 
heard  the  request  and  answer,  than,  apprehensive,  pro- 
bably, of  a  similar  demand  on  his  own  purse,  he  abruptly 
discontinued  his  attentions,  and  adopting  the  chilling 
uir  of  reserve  which  had  been  assumed  by  his  companion, 
suddenly  changed  his  loquacious  manner,  for  the  unbro- 
ken silence  which  had  surprised  Delmaine  on  his  entrance, 
and  had  since  continued  to  prevail. 

Our  hero,  though  kind  hearted  and  generous,  was  not 
uhero  of  romance — or,  in  other  words,  he  had  not  that 
unreserved  faith  in  the  perfection  and  disinterestedness 
of  mankind,  which,  when  carried  beyond  the  bounds  of 
probability,  leads  one  less  to  applaud  the  heart  than  to 
question  the  judgment  and  the  understanding.     Certain 

VOL.  I.  3 


*!te^. 


vi^\<« 


■ii- 


'  i 


(  t 

I  i; 


I  I 
!  I 


26 


^CARTE. 


circumstances  in  the  course  of  the  lady's  narrative,  and 
some  part  of  her  conduct  during  the  journey,  had  im- 
pressed him  with  rather  an  unfavourable  opinion  of  the 
person  with  whom  he  was  now  conversing  ;  yet  he  could 
not  unconcernedly  behold  a  female,  whose  appearance 
certainly  indicated  her  claim  to  a  respectable  rank  in 
society,  while  her  language  and  manner  proved  her  by 
no  means  destitute  of  education  and  accomplishments, 
thus  subjected  to  probable  inconvenience,  with  the  addi- 
tional charge  of  a  young  child.  He  felt  for  the  humilia- 
tion she  appeared  to  endure  in  the  abrupt  refusal  expe- 
rienced from  one  of  her  countrymen,  and  the  subsequent 
altered ,  conduct  of  both  ;  yet  although  the  sum  she 
required  was  a  mere  bagatelle,  and,  notwithstanding  he 
had  even  sought  the  present  opportunity  of  making  a 
tender  of  service,  both  his  pride  and  his  self-love  caused 
him  to  shrink  from  the  idea  of  becoming  the  dupe  of  a 
woman  who  might,  after  all,  prove  a  mere  adventuress. 

At  length,  generosity  and  feeling  triumphed  over  every 
more  narrow  and  prudential  consideration,  and  apologi- 
zing for  a  liberty  which  he  said  he  hoped  would  find  its 
excuse  in  circumstances,  he  entreated  Madame  Dorjevillo 
to  accept  a  few  Napoleons  from  his  purse,  expressing  his 
regret  at  the  same  moment  that  he  could  not  conveniently 
offer  more.  The  eyes  of  the  disconsolate  widow  bright- 
ened at  the  view  of  the  proffered  sum,  which  she  declared 
quite  sufficient  to^  meet  her  necessities  until  her  remit- 
tance should  arrive.  She  insisted  on  having  Clifford's 
address,  in  order  to  acquit  herself  of  the  obligation  the 
instant  it  should  be  in  her  power,  and  Meurice's  Hotel 
was  at  length  named  as  the  place  where  any  letter  or 
message  might  be  sent. 

They  had  now  reached  the  top  of  the  hill,  and  the 
rest  of  the  party  resumed  their  seats.  Some  surprise 
was  manifested  by  the  two  Frenchmen  at  seeing  the 
Englishman,  who  had  hitherto  borne  no  part  in  the 
conversation,  then  in  close  conference  with  their  country- 
woman, and  several  significant  glances,  which  escaped 


1^ 


iiwmiir  v' 


41 


^CARTjg. 


if 


not  the  attention  of  our  herp,  were  exchanged  between 
them.  ii    ^ 

The  remainder  of  the  journey  was  performed  without 
incident,  and  at  five  in  the  afternoon,  the  gay  ipirei  and 
stately  edifices  of  Paris  were  distinctly  seen  in  the  thin 
vapours  which  floated  over  the  city  like  aheeti  of  trans- 
parent silver.  The  rays  of  the  declining  sun,  falling  on 
the  gilded  dome  of  the  "  Invalids,"  threw  an  air  of  liveli- 
ness over  the  congregated  mass  of  white  buildlngi,  and 
contrasted  forcibly  with  the  solemn  tolling  of  the  ponder- 
ous bells  (^Notre-Dame,  then  ringing  the  knell  of  lomo 
departed  and  exalted  personage.  At  length  the  barriers 
were  passed ;  and  in  less  than  half  an  hour  the  diligenco 
was  driven  to  the  place  of  its  destination. 

The  door  of  the  carriage  was  no  sooner  opened,  and 
the  steps  lowered,  than  the  merchant  and  his  companion) 
who  had  evidently  dreaded  a  second  application  n'Om  the 
widow,  darted  through  the  opening,  without  even  uttering 
the  "  adieu,"  so  seldom  forgotten  in  their  courteous  loil, 
even  among  travellers  and  strangers,  and  our  hero,  fol- 
lowing, assisted  Madame  Dorjeville  to  alight.  As  she 
reached  the  ground,  some  hard  substance  fell  from  within 
the  folds  of  her  dress,  and  as  it  struck  on  th^  pavement, 
Clifford  fancied  the  sound  resembled  that  of  a  somewhat 
lieavy  purse.  Of  this,  however,  he  could  not  assure 
himself,  the  lady  having,  in  evident  anticipation  of  hh 
movement,  Instantly  stooped  to  pick  it  up,  and  in  such 
a  way  as  to  prevent  his  having  a  view  of  the  object. 
When  she  rose,  nothing  was  visible  in  her  j^and  except 
the  pocket-handkerchief,  in  which  she  hat*  A^ed  up  tno 
gold  he  had  given  her,  and  which  had  not  been  quitted 
even  for  a  moment.  Her  face  was  suffused  with  a  deep 
crimson,  but  this  might  have  proceeded  from  the  action 
of  stooping,  and  it  speedily  passed  away ;  Delmaine  then 
handed  her  into  the  fiacre^  which  at  her  request  had  been 
called,  and  throwing  himself  into  another,  repaired  to  W* 
hotel. 


I 


'^f 


..V 


28 


^CART^. 


»^;>t)tv.f>v-}.'. .  ■;«'.V'ij^>-->\fj>::t  fH'i'Si  ■  .;.^ii\j'  ■  •'i<.t'\->  («,,iT,-»^ff ,, 


;^>:.)§J^)h!.  ?^t,-t!.t3!vt?,v 


\...> 


;%:(H<.^i.'i\p-^V'  *i  .i'V'i""!.  :■•  .;>::; 


CHAPTER  III. 


/ 


* 


li  ■ 


It  had  been  arranged  previous  to  tho  departure  of  Sir 
Edward  and  his  friends  from  Calais,  that  as  some  delay 
must  necessarily  occur  in  reaching  tho  French  capital, 
Delmaine  should  undertake  the  charge  of  providing  suit- 
able apartments  for  their  immediate  reception.  On  the 
following  morning,  therefore,  our  hero  hastened  to  acquit 
himself  of  his  mission.  On  sallying  forth  into  the  Rue 
de  Rivoli,  by  the  back  entrance  to  Mcurice's,  he  found 
his  progress  impeded  by  a  vast  concourse  of  people  sta- 
tioned around  the  Palace  of  the  Tuileries,  and  in  the  ad- 
joining streets.  They  were  assembled,  he  found  on  in- 
quiring, to  take  a  last  view  of  their  govereign,  Louis 
the  Eighteenth,  whose  decease  the  imposing  bourdonne" 
ment  of  the  bells  of  Notre-Dame  had  announced  on  the 
preceding  evening,  and  whose  body  then  lay  in  state, 
and  was  open  to  the  curiosity  of  the  public. 

The  demeanour  of  the  people  was  suited  to  the  occa- 
sion— an  utter  stillness  pervaded  the  different  groups, 
who  waited  with  philosophical  patience  beneath  a  burn- 
ing sun,  until  those  who  preceded  them  should  be  ad- 
mitted, and  consequently  hasten  the  moment  of  their  own 
gratification.  People  of  all  ranks  and  descriptions,  and 
of  both  sejt^s,  urged  by  the  same  restless  spirit  of  cu- 
riosity ana  love  of  novelty,  which  pervades  evei^  class  ol" 
this  light  nation,  were  mingled  together ;  and  Delmainr 
could  scarcely  suppress  a  smile,  on  witnessing  the  anxi- 
ety evinced  by  all  Paris  to  view  the  disfigured  remains 
of  wretched  mortality,  clad  in  the  trappings  which  ren- 
der death  even  more  hideous.  He  could  not,  however, 
avoid  rendering  justice  to  the  decorous  behaviour  of  the 
crowd,  and  in  contrasting  it  with  what  he  had  seen  in 
England,  on  nearly  similar  occasions,  felt  that  prejn- 


EC ARTE. 


Oice  itself  must  award  the  plan  of  correct  deportment, 
among  the  lower  orders  of  society,  to  the  French. 

Hopeless  of  making  his  way  through  the  throng,  he 
was  0:1  the  point  of  returning,  in  order  to  gain  the  Rue 
St.  Honore,  by  the  front  entrance  to  the  hotel,  when  he 
observed  a  gentleman  making  a  similar  effort  to  disen- 
gage himself,  and  advancing  towards  the  Rue  Castig- 
lione.  The  back  of  the  stranger  was  turned  towards 
our  hero,  but  he  fancied  the  figure  was  that  of  an  old 
friend ;  and,  hastening  to  overtake  him,  their  recogni- 
tion was  mutual — "Delmaine!"  "  Dormer!"  were  the 
exclamations,  preferred  with  warmth,  and  accompanied 
by  a  cordial  pressure  of  the  hand.  In  a  few  minutes 
the  crowd  was  passed,  and  Clifford,  having  mentioned 
the  object  of  his  search  to  his  friend,  was  accompanied 
by  the  latter  to  the  Hotel  Mirabeau,  in  the  Rue  de  la 
Paix,  from  whence  a  family  of  his  acquaintance  had  de- 
parted the  preceding  day,  leaving  a  handsome  and 
commodious  apartment,  au  second,  unoccupied.  This 
they  found  still  vacant,  and  Delmaine,  afler  some  objec- 
tions to  the  two  pair  of  stairs,  which  were  not  overru- 
led by  the  assurance  of  Dormer,  that  the  most  respect- 
able families  were  glad  to  procure  apartments  even 
mt  quatrieme,  in  the  fashionable  quarter  of  Paris,  final- 
ly decided  on  taking  one  which  was  vacant  on  the  first 
floor,  and  after  having  advanced  les  arrhes,  which  Ma- 
dame le  proprietaire  said  it  was  usual  to  receive,  took 
the  arm  of  his  friend,  and  returned  to  Meurice's. 

In  the  pleasure  experienced  at  thus  unexpectedly  be- 
holding one,  to  whom  he  had  in  earlier  years  been 
attached  by  a  similarity  of  tastes  and  feelings,  Delmaine 
had  not  overlooked  the  change  operated  on  a  counte- 
nance, formerly  glowing  with  the  rich  hues  of  health, 
but  now  overcast  with  a  paleness  produced  by  recent 
care  and  suffering.  His  manner  had  also  undergone  a 
revolution :  instead  of  the  gay  Frederick,  who  had  once 
been  the  life  of  their  boyish  sports,  he  beheld  with  con- 
cern p  heii\f  on  whose  every  feature  profound  traces  of 
sadness  were  imprinted  j  while  in  the  occasional  sarcas- 

3* 


^1 


X 


if  KCARTK. 

tiq  sallies  which  had  escaped  him  during  their  short 
walk,  he  had  observed,  that  misanthropy  and  distrust 
lurked  at  the  bottom  of  a  heart  formerly  susceptibl} 
alive  to  hope  and  confidence. 

Much  hurt  at  the  evident  alteration  in  his  friend,  Clit- 
ford,  with  affectionate  earnestness,  inquired  the  cause ; 
and  Dormer,  without  hesitation,  proceeded  to  disclosf 
all  that  had  occurred  to  him  since  their  separation. 

"  I  have  suffered  much,"  he  said,  "  both  in  body  and 
in  mind ;  and  though  I  have  had  some  cause  to  inveigh 
against  the  selfishness  and  cold-heartedness  of  mankind, 
I  cannot  deny  that  my  trials  have  originated  in  myself, 
and  that  to  one  unhappy  and  predominating  vice  in  my 
nature,  must  be  attributed  much  of  the  torturing  miser} 
which  has  consumed  my  youthful  days,  and  almost  shut 
out  every  avenue  of  my  mind  to  consolation  or  happi- 
ness. Hear,  however,  what  I  have  to  unfold,  and  al- 
though the  retrospection  is  ever  attended  by  painful  emo- 
tions, I  shall  feel  but  too  happy  if  the  story  of  my  follies 
tend  to  guard  you  against  the  temptations  to  which  you 
yourself  may  be  exposed,  and  prevent  your  touching  on 
that  rock,.on  which  hundreds  of  young  Englishmen,  rich 
in  health  and  worldly  advantages,  have  already  split  in 
this  pleasure-stored  metropolis. 

,'  "To  trace  the  gradations  of  weakness,  it  may  be  ne- 
cessary to  advert  to  an  early  period  of  my  existence, 
when,  leaving  a  public  school  for  the  more  extensive 
theatre  of  the  field,  I  left  you  glowing  with  youthful  ar- 
dour and  pleasure,  to  join  my  regiment,  then  in  Canada, 
and  on  active  service.  T  will  not  occupy  your  attention 
with  a  detail  of  our  operations,  during  the  short  but  ar- 
duous struggle,  against  an  enemy  superior  in  numbers, 
and  combating  under  the  many  advantages  afforded  b}- 
the  covered  state  of  his  country,  and  the  proximity  of  his 
resources ;  neither  will  I  paint  the  singular  and  ferocious 
modes  of  warfare  peculiar  to  the  Indian  tribes  ranged 
beneath  our  standards.  Let  it  suffice,  that  the  regiment 
was  iat  length  finally  overpowered  by  an  overwhelming 


tCXRTl^. 


ini'cv,  and  the  surviving  officers  and  men  carried  into  tbo 
lieiu'l  of  the  enemy's  country. 

*'  To  the  former,  the  privilege  of  parole  was  instantly 
iircorded,  and  it  was  during  our  passage  for  our  final  • 
•iuMtlnation  across  one  of  the  lakes,  that  the  germ  of 
vice  first  budded  into  being.     There  are  few  countries^ 
pet  imps,  France  not  even  excepted,  where  a  passion  for 
piny  H  more  painfully  manifested  than  in  the  United 
StutOH  of  America.     All  the  officers  of  the  army  and 
iiuvy,  with  a  very  few  exceptions,  make  it  to  constitute 
I  heir  chief  study  and  amusement,  and  the  sun  often 
dnwuH  on  the  flushed  and  discoloured  countenances  of 
ihoHc  whom  it  had  left  agitated  by  the  various  and  con- 
lending  emotions  excited  by  the  smiles  or  frowns  of 
Fortune.      '  -u^''  :'■    .■?••';"  ■-"■■  ■''  —,<r.'' 

'*  Our  voyage  was  unhappily  more  tedious  than  is 
UHual  in  those  countries ;  and  recourse  was  had  to  play, 
by  the  officers  of  the  vessel,  during  a  calm  of  several 
hours  continuance.  Three-card  loo,  their  almost  uni- 
versal game,  was  introduced,  and  several  of  ray  com- 
panions sat  down  to  the  table.  My  finances  were  ex- 
tremely low,  consisting  simply  of  ten  half  eagles,  an 
American  gold  coin  of  the  value  of  five  dollars.  Aware 
of  the  difficulty  I  must  experience  in  procuring  a  supply, 
and  convinced  of  the  necessity  for  husbanding  my  litdc 
Mtock,  I  for  some  time  resisted  the  temptation  I  felt 
gradually  creeping  over  me.  I  had  seldom  before 
touched  a  card ;  the  duties  of  my  profession,  and  a 
conitnnt  state  of  active  service,  calling  for  the  employ- 
ment of  my  time  in  a  very  difierent  manner.  I  conti- 
nued for  some  minutes  to  look  over  the  hand  of  an 
American,  and  found  the  game  simple,  while  I  could 
not  avoid  deeming  it  interesting ;  I  felt  myself  strongly 
icntpted  to  try  my  fortune,  and  at  length  yielded  to  the 
renewed  invitations  held  out  to  me. 

"  The  blind  goddess,  it  is  said,  generally  favours  the 
novice  at  his  outset,  in  order  to  lead  him  more  efiec- 
tually  into  error ;  but  t  hsxd  no  reason  to  tax  her  with 
a  treachery  of  that  nature  in  the  present  instance. 


ij*; 


I 


t^ 


1 


32 


ECARTE. 


When  I  arose  from  the  table,  I  had  lost  half  my  money, 
and  the  mortification  I  experienced  in  consequence  wat^ 
bitter  in  the  extreme.  I  deeply  lamented  the  folly  of 
my  conduct  in  suffering  myself  to  be  led  by  the  persua- 
sions of  others  into  the  commission  of  violence  against 
my  prudence  and  better  judgment,  and  I  looked  forward 
with  concern  to  the  fulure.  Remote  from  my  friends, 
a  prisoner,  and  rendered  incapable,  while  such,  by  tho 
regulations  of  the  service,  from  drawing  on  the  regi- 
mental staff  for  a  shilling,  my  prospects  wore  not  the 
most  flattering  aspect.  As  I  leaned  over  the  deck, 
watching  the  calm  surface  of  the  lake,  my  uiiluckj* 
genius  suggested  to  me  the  idea  of  seeking  my  remedy 
in  the  disease  itself :  and  although  my  reason  and  better 
sense  reproved  the  measure,  as  one  fraught  with  addi- 
tional ill,  my  own  secret  inclination  favoured  the  design. 
The  latent  spark  had  been  kindled — the  dormant  spirit 
of  play  had  been  awakened — and  from  that  moment, 
the  subsequent  trials  of  my  life  may  date  their  origin. 

"  An  opportunity  for  retrieving  my  losses  did  not. 
however,  again  occur  on  board;  for  soon  after  this, 
my  first  initiation,  a  fresh  gale  springing  up,  soon  car~ 
ried  us  to  the  point  where  it  was  intended  the  officers 
should  be  landed  for  the  purpose  of  being  conveyed 
into  the  heart  of  the  American  wilderness.  Our  jour- 
ney was  then  prosecuted  on  horseback  ;  and  under  tho 
escort  of  two  or  three  officers  of  the  United  States  army, 
appointed  to  provide  us  with  such  accommodation  a? 
could  be  found  on  the  route. 

"  Play  was  the  occupation  of  several  at  night  j  and 
although  cruelly  punished  throughout  my  subsequent 
life,  for  my  then  acquired  habits,  I  can  never  recall 
without  a  smile  the  picture  of  our  party,  seated  often  in 
the  heart  of  a  forest,  where,  in  the  absence  of  any  hu- 
man habitation,  we  were  sometimes  compelled  to  repose 
from  the  fatigues  of  our  journey.  A  fallen  tree,  covered 
with  a  cloak  or  pocket-handkerchief,  constituted  our 
table ;  and,  squatted  like  savages  on  the  ground,  we 
usually  played  by  the  glaring*  light  of  the  birch  bark. 


f, 


lilWWMa 


ifiCART^. 


33 


supplying  the  absence  of  a  candle,  and  falling  on  our 
harassed  and  anxious  countenances,  as  we  threw  the 
cards  successively  on  the  board  ;  at  a  little  distance, 
our  more  sensible  companions,  wrapped  in  their  cloaks, 
enjoyed  that  unbroken  slumber  which  awaits  on  bodily, 
but  is  seldom  the  attendant  on  mental  fatigue  ;  and  onr 
horses  stood  quietly  grazing  in  the  back  ground— all 
tending  to  fill  up  the  measure  of  a  scene  which  would 
not  have  disgraced  the  pencil  of  a  Hogarth. 

"  Having,  after  much  toil  and  difficulty,  gained  the 
spot  selected  by  the  American  government  for  our  future 
abode,  the  parole,  originally  accorded  by  the  general 
officer  into  whose  hands  we  had  fallen,  was  continued  ; 
and  we  availed  ourselves  of  the  interval  to  profit  by  the 
hospitality  of  many  of  the  more  respectable  inhabitants, 
who  seeme4)i  to  vie  with  each  other  in  their  endeavours 
to  banish  from  our  minds  the  unpleasant  sensations  ari- 
sing from  a  sense  of  captivity. 

*'  Among  the  first  of  these  in  rank,  and  pre-eminently 
distinguished  by  every  quality  which  can  refine  the 
heart  and  adorn  the  understanding,  was  Mr.  Worth- 
ington,  a  gentleman,  whose  hospitality  extended  its 
soothing  influence  to  us  all,  and  was  in  the  sequel  more 
immediately  directed  towards  myself.  In  the  home  of 
my  nativity,  I  could  not  have  experienced  more  kind- 
ness or  met  with  more  grateful  attention ;  and  the  re- 
membrance of  his  worth  has  survived  the  feelings  of 
bitterness,  occasioned  by  the  rigidity  and  stoicism  of 
his  inflexible  virtue.     But  let  me  not  anticipate.    '  /  > : 

"  Mr.  Wonhington  was  a  widower  ;  and  one  loved 
and  beauteous  daughter,  under  the  immediate  protection 
of  a  maiden  sister,  composed  his  family.  Agatha  was 
worthy  of  such  a  father.  To  a  mind  highly  cultivated, 
and  a  purity  of  feeling,  equalled  only  by  the  tenderness 
of  a  heart  alive  to  every  nobler  and  more  generous  impulse 
of  humanity,  she  united  those  glowing  and  luxurious 
beauties  of  person  which  distinguish  the  females  of  the 
American  continent,  even  at  an  age  when  in  northern 
Europe  they  are  regarded  as  mere  children.    With 


»v«*^V.:'5>-l'Tr!*"*'' 


•f.7 


•  i- 


\   '^ 


V 


34 


l£CART^. 


Agatha  I  soon  became  a  favourite  ;  she  was  then  in  hei' 
sixteenth  summer,  and  my  junior  only  by  two  years.*— 
Caressing  and  afTectionate,  her  soft  blue  eyes  would  fill 
with  tears,  as,  adverting  to  my  family,  she  often  dwelt  on 
the  anxiety  they  must  entertain  in  respect  to  my  fate,  all 
communication  between  the  two  countries  having  been 
cut  off  from  those  whom  the  fortune  of  war  had  thrown 
into  captivity. 

"  At  those  moments  I  felt  for  her  all  the  endearing 
warmth  of  a  brother,  and  the  unreserved  testimonies  of 
her  interest  made  a  deep  impression  on  my  heart.  The 
friendship  which,  in  our  first  hours  of  abandonment,  we 
vowed  to  preserve  for  each  other,  gradually  ripened  into 
a  warmer  sentiment,  and  Agatha  freely  acknowledged 
the  force  of  an  affection,  the  extreme  purity  of  which 
could  not  call  up  a  blush  to  the  cheek  of  either.  Those 
were,  indeed,  happy  days.  A  gay  and  unclouded  future 
was  unfolded  to  my  view  ;  the  present  was  only  shaded 
by  a  privation  of  liberty,  which  had  every  appearance  of 
being  temporary,  and  was  softened  down  by  the  kind- 
ness and  hospitality  of  public  enemies  converted  into 
private  friends  :  while  a  recurrence  to  the  past  brought 
with  it  no  stings  of  self-reproach  to  poison  the  bowl  of 
anticipated  felicity. 

''  Mr.  Worthington  had  observed  our  growing  par- 
tiality for  each  other ;  and,  tenderly  alive  to  the  happi- 
ness of  his  beloved  daughter,  disapproved  not  of  an 
attachment  which  the  apparent  steadiness  of  my  character, 
and  the  information  obtained  from  my  superior  officers, 
left  him  no  reason  to  object  to,  on  the  score  of  morals  and 
connexion.  Independently  of  my  commission,  I  was 
only  entitled  to  a  property  of  two  hundred  a  year  on 
coming  of  age,  my  present  exigencies  being  liberally, 
though  not  extravagantly,  supplied  by  an  allowance 
from  my  father.  This,  however,  was  a  secondary  con- 
sideration ;  rich  himself,  in  worldly,  as  in  intellectual 
wealth,  the  fortune  Mr.  Worthington  intended  to  bestow 
on  his  daughter,  was  sufTciently  large  to  insure,  not 
jnly  ease,  but  affluence,  to  her  and  to  the  partner  of  her 


^cart£. 


35 


clioice.  ShcIi,  Clifibrd,  was  the  prospect  that  awaited 
me,  until  my  own  blind  and  unaccountable  (oily,  in 
depriving  me  of  the  esteem  of  this  excellent  parent, 
dashed  the  cup  of  happiness  for  ever  from  my  lips. 

"  Five  months  had  elapsed  since  my  first  introduction 
into  this  amiable  family,  when  intimntion  wa-  received 
from  die  seat  of  government  that  a  partial  exchange  of 
prisoners  was  contemplated ;  and  as  the  parties  to 
whom  the  intelligence  was  conveyed  felt  deeply  interest- 
ed in  the  result,  it  was  particularly  specified  that  our 
detachment  was  to  be  comprehended. 

**  The  pleasure  which  this  information  diffused  over 
every  heart,  was  such  as  can  only  be  conceived  by  per- 
sons similarly  situated  ;  for  although  the  hospitality  and 
attention  of  the  more  respectable  inhabitants  fully  coni- 
])cnsated  for  the  insults  to  which  we  were  not  unfrc- 
quently  exposed  from  the  rabble,  whose  detestation  of 
the  English  name  was  carried  to  an  unaccountable  pitch, 
•A  sense  of  captivity  chilled  every  principle  of  action,  and 
damped  the  satisfaction  which,  under  any  other  circum- 
stances, we  must  have  experienced. 

"  To  testify  their  participation  in  our  joy  on  this  occa- 
sion, our  friends  redoubled  their  efforts  to  amuse  and 
entertain  us  during  the  short  period  we  were  expected 
to  remain,  and  parties  of  various  kinds  were  formed  at 
their  country  seats,  in  many  of  which  reigned  an  air  oi' 
almost  eastern  luxuriousness. 

'*  I  had  accepted  an  invitation  to  pass  a  few  days  at  a 
neighbouring  watering  place,  in  company  with  several 
young  men ;  and  thither,  after  taking  an  affectionate 
leave  of  Agatha  and  lier  father,  I  repaired  early  in  the 
month  of  June,  with  a  brow  unclouded  by  care,  and  a 
heart  filled  with  delightful  visions  of  the  future. 

"  At  H — is — g,  as  at  most  other  watering  places, 
cards  were  a  favourite  amusement  of  the  society ;  and, 
as  an  amusement,  it  could  not  be  productive  of^eriou» 
evil,  the  stakes  being,  during  the  period  of  my  stay,  ex- 
tremely low,  and  die  game  limited.  While  this  conti- 
nued, I  fancied,  in  the  true  spirit  of  the  player,  that  no 


.l-T/ 

m 


m 


^CART^. 


I 


.^1  material  risk  could  be  incurred  in  falling  in  with  a  pur* 
IP^«  suit  followed  by  all,  and  attended  by  inconvenience  to 
none;  and  my  late  resolutions  vanished  before  the  plau- 
sibility of  my  arguments.  For  a  time  I  played  so  low  as 
to  impress  myself  with  a  belief  that  amusement  alone  was 
my  object,  not  that  a  growing  passion  was  seeking  ali- 
ment for  its  sustenance.  I  did  not  consider  that  if  my 
stakes  were  not  higher,  and  my  interest  in  the  result  con- 
seqently  more  intense,  it  was  not  because  the  principle 
was  less  powerfully  ingrafted  in  my  heart,  but  because 
those  with  whom  I  then  played  were  more  bounded  in 
their  desires,  and  made  it  less  a  study  than  an  amusement. 
"  A  melancholy  opportunity  soon  offered  to  unde- 
ceive myself.  Among  the  numerous  party  who  daily  as- 
sembled in  the  card-room  was  an  American  officer,  my 
senior  by  several  years.  Play  was  his  predominant  pas- 
sion ;  and,  finding  the  stakes  too  moderate  to  satisfy  his 
thirst,  and  interest  his  attention,  and  possibly  reading  in 
my  couutenance  certain  indications  of  a  similar  disposi- 
tion, he  proposed  our  forming  a  separate  game.  After 
some  little  hesitation,  eventually  overruled  by  my  evil 
genius,  or,  more  properly,  my  natural  propensity  to 
.  gaming,  I  assented,  and  we  withdrew  to  a  private 
room,  where  cards  were  instantly  brought  to  us. 
As  my  purse  had  been  replenished  by  the  kindness  of 
an  American  banker,  who,  in  the  most  gentlemanly  and 
liberal  manner,  had  cashed  bills  for  a  number  of  officers 
on  their  several  friends,  without  letters  either  of  advice  or 
credit,  I  was  enabled  to  meet  the  proposal  of  my  adver- 
sary in  regard  to  the  stakes,  which  were  certainly  much 
higher  than  was  consistent  with  my  relative  position. 

"  At  the  close  of  the  third  day — and  during  the  inter- 
val, we  had  only  risen  from  our  seats  to  partake  of  a 
slight  refreshment,  and  had  torn  up  nearly  fifty  packs  of 
cards,  the  fragments  of  which  lay  scattered  on  the  floor 
as  silent  attestations  of  our  madness — I  found  myself,  al- 
ter alternate  gain  and  loss,  eventually  a  winner  of  aboiit 
twenty  eagles  in  ready  money,  and  a  creditor  to  my  less 
fortunate  opponent  in  a  much  larger  amount.   . ,,       vcs<* 


|i'.,A 


ifiCARTlS. 


37 


"  Elated  by  my  success,  I  fancied  that  I,  had  at  length 
succeeded  in  chaining  the  fickle  goddess  to  my  car,  and 
my  broken  and  agitated  slumbers  bore  the  impress  of  my 
waking  thoughts.  Cards,  trumps,  and  gold,  were  the 
objects  which  presented  themselves^  almost  exclusively, 
in  my  dreams ;  and  during  my  stay  at  this  fatal  place, 
the  image  of  the  affectionate  and  gentle  Agatha  scarcely 
once  arose  to  banish  these  my  present  idols  from  my 
heart.  Oh,  Clifford,  how  humiliating  to  my  soul  is  the 
recollection  of  my  unworthiness.  How  do  I  blush  to 
think,  that  while  this  fond  girl  was  indulging  in  those 
pleasing  anticipations  which  swell  on  the  spotless  bosom 
of  pure  and  sacred  love,  the  object  of  her  thoughts  was 
spending  those  moments,  which  should  have  been  devoted 
to  nobler  pursuits,  in  the  shameful  indulgence  of  a  vice, 
the  almost  inevitable  results  of  which  are  debasement  and 
destruction  to  every  generous  feeling  of  the  mind.  In 
colours  too  faithful  and  too  forcible  does  the  past  fre- 
quently present  itself  to  my  imagination ;  and  even  that 
consolation  of  the  wretched,  which  robs  suffering  of  its 
sting — a  freedom  from  self-reproach — is  denied  to  me. 

"  Among  the  various  strangers  attracted  to  H — is — g 
by  curiosity,  a  partiality  for  the  waters,  or,  what  was 
more  usual,  a  partiality  for  play,  was  an  individual,  a 
temporary  sojourner  in  the  place  which  contained  those 
most,  deeply  interested  in  my  welfare.  Of  this  man,  I 
had  a  yfry  imperfect  knowledge,  having  met  him  only 
at  public  assemblies ;  and  his  repulsive  manner  and  un- 
prepossessing appearance  had  ever  inspired  me  with  an 
anfipatliy  for  his  person,  as  if  nature  or  instinct  had 
pointed  him  out  for  the  being  destined  to  be  the  cause 
of  my  future  misery. 

■  "  One  evening,  after  having  finished  our  wine  at  the 
public  tr.ble,  or  ordinary,  as  it  is  termed  in  America, 
cards  were  introduced,  and  several  of  the  party  joined 
in  the  game-.  After  having  played  for  two  or  three 
hours  with  indifferent  success  on  my  side,  they  gradually 
and  successively  withdrew,  leaving  the  person  in  ques- 
tion and  myself  alone  at  the  table.     My  adversary,  who 

VOL.  I.  4 


,> 

.*::*■- 


y  ■* 


38 


J^CART]^. 


subsequently  proved  to  be  a  transatlantic  chevalier  dHn^ 
duttrie,  led  by  my  youthful  appearance  to  deem  me, 
what  in  fact  I  was,  a  mere  novice  at  the  game,  and  judg- 
ing firom  the  ardour  with  which  I  played,  that  I  might 
easily  be  tempted  to  risk  the  contents  of  a  full  purse, 
which  he  saw  laying  before  me,  proposed  our  entering 
on  increased  stakes,  and  for  a  given  time.  Emboldened 
by  my  recent  success,  and  warmed  with  wine  and  pre- 
vious play,  I  assented  to  a  proposal  which,  under  any 
other  circumstances,  my  extreme  dislike  for  the  man 
would  have  caused  me  to  decline,  and  our  watches  were 
placed  on  the  table.  Notwithstanding  his  superior 
knowledge  of  the  game,  manifested  in  the  course  of  the 
sitting,  and  the  penetrating  glances  of  his  quick  eye, 
frequently  fastened  on  my  countenance,  as  if  to  behold 
reflected  there  the  cards  which  I  held  in  my  hand,  fortune 
stood  once  more  my  friend,  or  rather  my  enemy,  and  at 
the  expiration  of  the  time  agreed  on,  I  found  myself  win- 
ner of  seventy-five  eagles,  composing  almost  the  total 
amount  of  my  adversary's  purse. 

"Rage  and  disappointment  swelled  highly  in  his 
bosom,  and  his  sallow  visage  became  even  more  frightful 
in  the  livid  paleness  with  which  it  was  overspread,  as, 
frowning  from  a  pair  of  shaggy  eyebrows,  beneath  which 
Wo  small  gray  eyes  darted  an  expression  of  ferocity,  he 
arose  from  his  seat,  and  quitted  the  room,  uttering  ter- 
rific imprecations  against  his  ill  fortune. 

"On  returning  to  rest  at  a  late  hour,  1  felt  dissatisfied 
with  myself.  The  impression  arising  from  my  last  ac- 
quisitic:"  was  entirely  different  from  what  I  experienced 
after  my  success  with  the  American  officer.  I  knew  that 
in  the  nrst  instance  I  had  engaged  with  a  gentleman ; 
whereas  in  the  latter  it  seemed  to  me  that  I  had  com- 
mitted myself,  in  remaining  tete-a-tete  with  a  man  of 
whom  1  knew  nothing ;  and  for  whom  I  entertained  the 
most  unqualified  dislike.  A  sort  of  fearful  apprehension, 
a  gloomy  foreboding  of  evil,  preyed  on  my  mind,  and  I 
vainly  sought  relief  in  repose.  I  also  fancied  the  loss  of 
bis  money  might  be  felt  by  him  as  a  serions  inconve- 


j,*.^ 


•% 


H 


ECARTE. 


39 


nience;  and  in  this  belief  I  was  confirmed  by  a  recollection 
of  the  agitation  which  overspread  his  countenance  at 
the  moment  of  his  rising  from  the  table.  I  have  always 
played  more  for  the  sake  of  indulging  a  passion  than  with 
the  mere  abstract  view  of  gain,  and  I  cannot  better  ex- 
emplify the  truth  of  this  observation,  even  to  myself,  than 
by  a  recurrence  to  the  fact  of  having  ever  derived  more 
pleasure  from  the  acquisition  of  a  sum  of  money  at  play, 
attended  by  all  its  risks,  agitations,  and  uncertainties, 
than  by  that  of  one  of  treble  amount  left  me  by  some  re- 
lation or  friend.  At  that  period  of  my  existence,  it  may 
be  presumed  that  the  love  of  gold  was  not  a  reigning 
passion,  and  that  a  desire  to  find  some  plausible  motive 
for  restoring  the  winnings,  which  lay  heavy  at  my  heart, 
to  their  late. possessor,  was  not  the  result  of  any  severe 
effort  of  resolution. 

"  On  the  manner  of  effecting  this  restitution  it  was 
not,  however,  easy  to  decide ;  and^  I  at  length  adopted 
that  which  alone  appeared  feasible,  that  of  inviting  him 
on^jthe  following  day  to  attempt  a  retrieval  of  his  losses. 
Mjf  intention  was  to  play  in  such  a  manner  as  to  effect 
this  object,  and  to  return  immediately  afterwards  to  my 

friends  at  F 1.     Satisfied  with  this  arrangement,  I 

finally  became  more  tranquil,  and  succeeded  in  com- 
posing my  spirits  to  rest."    .     .      , .       ^       ..; 


■f.y--'- 


m 


■■'f'.-.'tj' 


CHAPTER  IV. 


"  On  descending  to  breakfast  on  the  following  morn- 
ing, I  found  the  usual  party  assembled ;  but  the  person 
whom  I  more  immediately  desired  to  see  was  absent. 
On  inquiry,  I  learnt  from  one  of  the  domestics,  that  he 
had  mounted  his  horse  at  daybreak,  and  left  the  place 
altogether.    This  intelligence  I  heard  with  mingled 


.  v^/- 


49 


E CARTE. 


regret  and  disquietude;  but  these  feelings  gradually 
yielding  to  the  anticipated  pleasure  of  a  meeting  with 
Agatha,  of  whom,  as  if  recovering  from  a  long  reverie, 
I  then  began  to  think  with  renewed  tenderness,  1  an- 
nounced my  departure  for  the  following  day.  The 
fi  iends  I  had  accompanied  entreated  me  to  prolong  my 
stay ;  but  my  reflections  of  the  preceding  evening  had 
been  of  a  nature  to  inspire  me  with  disgust  for  the  place. 
It  seemed  to  me  that  in  visiting  it,  I  had  paved  the  way 
to  my  own  unhappiness ;  and  one  of  those  indefinable 
presentiments  of  evil,  by  which  the  human  mind  is  so 
frequently  assailed,  weighed  on  my  heart,  and  oppressed 
it  almost  to  sifBocation. 

"  In  this  state  I  continued  during  the  whole  of  the 
day  and  succeeding  night,  and  only  found  myself  re- 
lieved on  commencing  my  journey.  The  quick  motion 
of  my  horse  against  a  pure  and  refreshing  air,  perfumed 
by  the  various  odoriferous  plants  and  flowers  which 
grew  in  wild  luxuriance  around,  enlivene4  my  spirits, 
and  gave  energy  to  my  feelings.  How  strange  and  in- 
consistent is  the  nature  of  man !  On  approaching  the 
town  which  contained  her  who  was  then  dearer  to  my 
soul  than  all  the  treasures  of  the  universe,  I  felt  my 
heart  dilate  with  a  joy  and  fulness  hitherto  unknown ; 
and  all  those  sanguine  sensations,  by  which  my  youth 
had  ever  been  distinguished,  rushed  with  impetuosity  on 
my  soul,  and  painted  in  glowing  colours  the  raptures 
attendant  on  a  meeting  with  Agatha. 

"  Light,  gay,  and  happy,  as  I  had  been,  a  few  hours 
previously,  dull,  morose,  and  discontented,  I  rode  up  to 
the  door  of  Mr.  Worthington's  mansion,  and,  throwing 
the  reins  on  my  horse's  neck,  soon  found  myself  in  the 
presence  of  her  I  loved.  She  was  alone.  Her  manner 
was  aflectionate  and  kind ;  but  the  traces  of  recent  tears 
were  visible  on  her  cheek.  An  unusual  sadness  was  im- 
printed on  her  brow,  and  her  blue  eyes  "were  fixed  on 
mine  with  a  blended  expression  of  interest  and  reproach. 
Impetuously  I  inquired  the  cause,  and  she  burst  into 
tears.     I  fell  at  her  feet,  and  pressing  my  burning  lips 


tCAKTt. 


41 


on  her  trembling  hand,  sought  to  soothe  her  into  com- 
posure. Then  obeying  a  sudden  transition  of  feeling,  1 
again  demanded,  with  vehemence,  the  reaioii  of  this 
singular  behaviour.  Alarmed  in  her  turn,  at  the  wild- 
ness  of  my  manner,  she  cast  on  me  one  of  thoie  lookl  of 
ineffable  tenderness  which  were  so  exclusively  her  owrii 
and  that  look  operated  lil<e  magic  on  the  disorder  of  my 
mind.  Then  taking  my  hand,  *  Frederick,'  she  faltered, 
'  perhaps  I  am  unjust;  but  my  heart  was  wounded  at 
the  length  of  your  absence.  I  had  hoped  that  the  ihort 
period  of  your  further  stay  in  this  country  would  have 
been  passed  with  those  who  love  you,  not  devoted,  ai  it 
has  been,  to  the  society  of  strangers.  Politeneil,  and 
even  inclination^  might  have  induced  you  to  fOrm  a 
limited  engagement  with  those  whom  you  accompanied 
to  H — is — g;  but  I  should  be  sadly  disappointed  and 
hurt  to  think,  that  while  solitude  and  tears  for  your  ap- 
proaching departure  have  been  my  portion,  you  have 
thus  willingly  extended  a  visit  of  three  dayi  to  one  of 
nearly  as  many  weeks.  But  let  us  think  no  more  of  the 
past.    You  are  here  at  length,  and  Agatha  is  happy.* 

"  There  was  a  solemnity  in  her  mild  voice,  whii^h 
afflicted  me  even  more  than  her  words ;  these  fell  liko 
ice-drops  on  my  heart,  and  I  felt  all  the  enormity  of  my 
I'onduct.  I  could  not  deny  that  I  had  cruelly  neglected 
her,  and  that  the  delay  which  had  occasioned  so  much 
pain  to  this  fond  and  complaining  girl,  was  only  the 
tVuit  of  a  passion,  which  even  her  image,  and  the  recol* 
lection  of  her  worth,  could  not  wholly  subdue. 

"  My  countenance  became  flushed  with  agitation, 
iiiid  my  eyes  burned  within  their  sockets,  for  the  impe^ 
luosity  and  susceptibility  of  my  nature  were  at  wai' 
within  me.  While  the  former  called  up  the  more  violent 
workings  of  self-accusation,  the  latter  rendered  me 
painfully  alive  to  a  reproach  which,  even  if  unmerited, 
was  from  the  object  of  my  soul's  devotion,  ai  a  rankling 
barb  in  my  breast. — I  was  silent. 

"  '  Frederick,  have  I  offended  you  ?'  she  continued^ 
rhe  tears  chasing  each  other  down  her  cheeki,  and  h^r 

4* 


\'l 


I 


4i»    ^ 


^CARTJ^* 


whole  fr^me  trembling  with  emotion.     *0h  ipeak  to 
your  Agatha — say  that  you  forgive  her  !*  •  /  r* 

*•  *  Forgive  you !'  I  mournfully  exclaimed ;  *  Aga* 
tha,  I  am  unworthy  of  your  affection,  and  sunk  in  my 
own  esteem  :  yet  do  I  doat  on  you,  with  a  warmth  and 
tenderness  which  makes  reproach  from  your  lipi  tht> 
most  torturing  of  human  punishments.' 

"  The  scene  which  succeeded,  I  have  long  felt,  ever 
shall  feel,  but  can  never  describe.  All  that  the  tender 
ingenuity  of  artless  affection  could  devise,  all  that  en- 
dearing expression  and  caressing  manner  could  effect, 
the  fond  Agatha  exerted  to  soothe  my  mind,  and  restore 
me  to  my  original  self;  but  although  my  soul  wantoned 
ill  the  luxury  of  tender  abandonment,  and  freely  drank 
in  long  draughts  of  bliss  from  the  sofl  blue  eyes,  iwim- 
ming  in  tearful  pleasure,  and  half  dimmed  with  tremu- 
lous emotion,  I  could  not  wholly  overcome  the  truly 
painful  impressions  of  the  preceding  moments. 

"  From  the  delightful,  though  not  unalloyed  viiiionH 
of  future  felicity,  in  which  our  inmost  souls  indulged, 
we  were  at  length  aroused  by  the  sound  of  approaching 
footsteps,  and,  in  the  next  minute,  Mr.  Worthington 
entered  the  room.  I  sprang  forward  from  my  seat  with 
affectionate  earnestness,  but  my  half-extended  hand 
dropped  nerveless  at  ray  side,  as  I  remarked  the  cool 
and  distant  manner  with  which  my  salutation  was  re- 
ceived. Wounded  and  hurt  beyond  expression,  I  moved, 
mechanically,  towards  the  seat  I  had  just  occupied;  mv 
cheeks  were  suffused  with  crimson,  andniy  heart  boumi- 
ed  with  indignation.  Agatha  turned  her  eyes  first  on 
mine,  with  a  look  of  unutterable  interest,  and  then  on 
her  father,  as  if  to  ask  an  explanation ;  but  his  counti!- 
nance  wore  an  air  of  seriousness  and  severity  which 
disconcerted  her,  and  her  gaze  was  instantly  withdrawn. 

"  The  conversation  was  evidently  forced,  and  on 
general  subjects.  Not  the  slightest  allusion  was  made 
to  my  recent  absence;  and  the  cutting  politeness  that 
had  succeeded  to  the  almost  paternal  tenderness  with 
which  Mr.  Worthington  had  ever  previously  treated  m«*, 


jW.       "    '.,W.',V.--.' 


l^CARTjg. 


43 


alternately  heated  and  chilled  my  blood.  My  mind  was 
on  the  rack — my  heart  a  prey  to  the  most  cruel  emo- 
tions ;  and,  unable  longer  to  retain  my  self-possession, 
I  rose  to  depart.  Tear?  started  to  my  eyes,  and  my 
swelling  bosom  felt  as  though  a  mountain  weight  hung 
on  it;  but  though  I  could  have  fallen  at  his  feet,  who 
thus  inflicted  a  ^ousand  pangs  on  my  soul,  my  pride 
suppoi  ted  me :  and  following  up  the  example  so  cruelly 
given,  I  took  what  I  intended  should  be  a  cold  and  cere- 
monious leave  of  the  father,  and  faltering  an  adieu,  to 
Agatha,  who  sat  reclining  her  head  on  the  couch,  and 
concealing  her  tears  with  her  hand,  I  hastened  from  the 
apartment. 

"  On  regaining  my  lockings,  my  mind  was  worked 
up  to  the  highest  pitch  of  suffering,  and  my  pulse  was 
fevered  with  agitation.  Yet,  though  desirous  of  shun- 
ning the  observation  of  my  brother  officers,  I  could  not 
endure  to  be  left  alone.  Dinner  was  soon  afterwards 
announced,  and  I  hoped  to  find  some  relief  in  the  gay 
society  around  me.  The  cloth  removed,  bumper  suc- 
ceeded bumper,  but  brought  with  it  no  cessation  of  suf- 
fering ;  and  the  animated  conversation  of  my  compa- 
nions was  lost  on  a  mind  wrapped  in  its  own  gloomy  re- 
flections. At  an  early  hour,  I  retired  to  my  apartment ; 
but,  incapable  of  chasing  the  weight  which  preyed  upon 
my  heart,  and  fatigued  with  vain  exertions  to  seek  for- 
getfulness  in  slumber,  I  arose,  and,  dressing  myself  me- 
chanically, sallied  out  into  the  open  air. 

"  The  night  was  far  advanced,  and  I  directed  my 
course  towards  the  eastern  suburb  of  the  city,  at  the  ex- 
tremity of  which,  a  figure,  closely  enveloped  in  a  cloak, 
which  entirely  concealed  the  person,  crossed  the  street 
within  a  few  paces  of  me,  and  instantly  returned.  Heed- 
less of  the  singularity  of  the  circumstance,  and  absorbed 
in  the  diflerent  feelings  by  which  I  was  assailed,  I  con- 
tinued my  walk  along  a  dark  avenue  of  thickly  planted 
trees,  whose  luxuriant  foilage  and  widely  spreading 
branches  formed  an  arch,  beneath  which,  in  summer, 


.■-0 
■■;*•'. 


44 


l^CART^. 


k> 


the  inhabitants  daily  sought  shelter  from  the  scorching 
rays  of  the  sun. 

"I  had  advanced  a  considerable  way  along  this 
avenue,  when  the  striking  of  a  distant  clock  reminded  me 
of  the  lateness  of  the  hour,  and  I  hastened  to  return.  As 
I  emerged  frond  the  sombre  avenue,  I  beheld  the  same 
figure  which  had  before  attracted  my  attention  at  the 
very  extremity,  and  apparently  stationary.  I  was  in 
the  act  of  passing,  when  it  came  up  to  me,  and  throwing 
back  the  folds  of  the  cloak,  discovered  the  features  of 
the  individual  from  whom  I  had  won  the  seventy-five 
eagles  at  H — is — g,  and  who  had  departed  so  suddenly 
on  the  following  morning.  ;.a    ;    ,    ^ 

'*  Somewhat  startled  and  surprised  at  his  appearance, 
and  displeased  with  this  mysterious  mode  of  accosting 
me,  I  demanded  his  business  with  me  at  such  an  unsea- 
sonable hour.  '  That  you  shall  briefly  know,'  he  re- 
turned, in  a  grufi*  voice,  which  he  endeavoured  to  reduc? 
to  the  lowest  possible  key.  He  then  proceeded  to  say, 
that  he  could  not  afibrd  to  lose  the  money  I  had  won 
from  him,  and  that  if  I  had  any  regard  for  my  future 
happiness,  I  would  immediately  restore  it.  He  had 
heard  my  engagement  with  Miss  Worthington  spoken 
of  since  his  return  from  the  watering  place,  and  it  rested 
entirely  with  himself,  he  said,  to  destroy  my  schemes  of 
happiness  for  ever,  as  her  father,  he  was  well  informed, 
entertained  the  most  decided  antipathy  to  the  character 
of  a  gambler,  and  had  expressed  his  determination  never 
to  confide  the  happiness  of  his  daughter  to  one  imbued 
with  the  love  of  play.  He  added,  that  if  the  money  was 
returned  to  him,  he  would  bury  the  matter  in  oblivion 
for  ever ;  and  that  a  letter,  which  he  had  written  for 
Mr.  Worthington,  to  be  delivered  in  the  event  of  my 
refusal,  should  be  committed  to  the  flames. 

"To  comprehend  the  full  meaning  of  this  speech, 
iiud  the  risk  which  I  incurred,  you  must  be  made  ac- 
quainted with  a  material  circumstance,  which  I  had  omit- 
tt'd  to  state  in  its  proper  place.  Prior  to  my  departure 
ior  H — is — g,  it  had  been  settled,  that  at  the  cessation 


i 


ECART^. 


4fi 


Jcorching 

png  this 
inded  me 
turn.  As 
the  same 
n  at  the 
was  in 
hrowing 
Uures  of 
snty-five 
uddenly 

sarance, 
E:costing 
I  unsea- 
he  re- 
» reduc? 
to  say, 
*d  won 
7  future 
ie  had 
spoken 
t  rested 
Jmes  of 
ormed, 
aracter 
1  never 
mbued 
ey  was 
)livio]i 
en  for 
of  my 

aeecb, 
de  ac- 
omit- 
mure 
>ation 


of  liostilities  between  Great  Britain  and  America,  I 
Hhould  obtain  leave  of  absence,  and,  furnished  with 
tt  letter  from  my  father,  announcing  his  consent  to  our 
union,  return  to  claim  Agatha  for  my  wife.  Moreover, 
in  the  event  of  any  future  rupture  between  the  two  coun- 
ti'iei,  I  wap  io  endeavour  to  avoid  bearing  arms  against 
the  hnd  cf  her  birth— or,  if  unsuccessful,  to  retire  from 
the  service  ;  but  us  I  took  no  pains  to  disguise  my  pre- 
dilection for  a  military  life,  the  former  course  was  to  be 
adopted,  if  possible,  in  preference.  *  ^':,w 

♦♦The  sensations  by  which  I  was  governed  during 
t\m  fli|;^ulnr  address,  were  of  the  most  opposite  and  tu- 
mnltunus  description — indignation  at  the  insolence  and 
villany  of  the  speaker — confusion  at  the  humiliation  en- 
tailed by  my  own  unpardonable  folly — a  ditead  of  the 
just  displeasure  of  Mr.  Worthington,  and,  above  all, 
the  fear  of  being  lessened  in  the  esteem  of  her  1  loved — 
all  flashed  on  my  brain  at  once,  and  for  a  moment  de- 
prived me  of  the  power  of  utterance.  It  had  been  both 
my  wish  and  my  mtention  to  restore  this  fatal  gold  to  its 
original  possessor  ;  but  to  be  thus  bullied,  and  threaten- 
ed, as  it  were,  into  an  act  which,  to  have  the  slightest 
merit,  should  be  voluntary,  was  more  than  my  hot  na- 
ture could  patiently  brook.  Feeling,  however,  the  strong 
existing  necessity  for  dissembling  my  resentment,  I  en- 
deavoured to  appear  calm;  and,  taking  out  the  purse 
which  contained  his  money,  and  which,  owing  to  the 
agitation  of  my  spirits,  I  had  not  once  thought  of  depo- 
siting lince  my  arrival,  I  handed  it  to  him,  observing  at 
the  lame'  time,  that  it  had  fully  been  my  intention  to 
restore  him  a  sum,  the  loss  of  which  had  so  visibly  affect- 
ed him,  and  that  with  that  view  I  had  inquired  for  him 
oil  the  following  morning,  when,  to  my  great  surprise, 
I  found  he  had  departed. 

♦♦  He  caught  at  the  proffered  purse  with  all  the  eager- 
ness of  one  who  finds  himself  in  possession  of  an  object 
lon^  coveted  and  long  despaired  of;  then,  with  an  in- 
sulting sneer,  replied,  that  he  gave  me  all  due  credit  for 
mv  diaintAveatuHnoao    (  Ciffnitvea  '  liA  aHd(>d.  tauntincrlv. 


my  disinterestedness.  ♦  Of  course,'  he  added,  tauntingly, 


€■ 


:m0:^  ,-.t■^: ....  :,.^;^v^: 


m 


I 


46 


ECARTE. 


'  the  possession  of  your  mistress  goes  for  nothing  in  the 
restitution.'  ,  -'i. 

"  This  was  more  than  I  could  bear.  Springing  over 
the  space  which  divided  us,  I  struck  him  violently  with 
my  cane  ;  and  turning  (round,  hastened  to  continue  my 
ws^.  I  had  not,  however,  gone  many  paces,  when  a 
sharp  weapon,  plunged  into  ray  side,  convinced  me  of 
the  imprudence  of  which  I  had  been  guilty.  The  vil- 
lain had  no  sooner  effected  his  aim,  than  he  darted  down 
the  avenue,  pursuing  a  different  course  to  that  by  which 
he  had  approached  me,  and  with  some  difficulty  I  con- 
trived to  drag  myself  to  my  lodgings,  where,  notwith- 
standing my  endeavours  to  keep  the  circumstance  as 
secret  as  possible,  the  whole  of  the  establishment  were 
speedily  informed  of  the  accident.  -  '■'^u  ^^j!  .  jv-  Ji^ 
{*■ "  The  wound,  although  painful,  proved  on  exami- 
nation to  be  slight — the  weapon,  probably  a  dirk,  having- 
glanced  in  an  oblique  direction  ;  and  the  surgeon,  after 
applying  the  dressing,  and  recommending  quiet,  ex- 
pressed his  opinion  of  a  speedy  release  from  the  tempo- 
rary confinement  imposed  on  me.  When  left  to  the  soli- 
tude of  my  chamber,  I  revolved  the  recent  occurrence 
in  my  mind,  and  bitterly  condemned  the  impetuosity  of 
temper  which  bad  led  to  my  present  condition.  Tracing 
♦he  effect  lo  its  original  cause,  I  more  than  ever  repro- 
bated the  weakness  which  had  brought  me  in  immediate 
contact  with  a  man  who,  in  some  measure,  held  my  des- 
tiny in  his  hands,  and  from  whose  utter  disregard  of  de- 
licacy I  had  every  thing  to  apprehend.  *.  •  >W'. 

<<  How  he  had  gained  the  information  so  ins>'«Iently 
conveyed  to  me,  I  could  not  possibly  divine,  since  I  was 
assured  that  he  was  a  personal  stranger  to  the  gentle- 
man with  whose  sentiments  he  appeared  to  be  p'^rfectl} 
acquainted ;  yet  I  could  not  deny  that  there  was  every 
foundation  for  a  belief  in  its  accuracy.  Mr.  Worthing- 
ton,  whose  virtuous  mind  recoiled  from  the  idea  of  all 
vice,  and  more  especially  that  of  gaming,  which  he  con- 
ceived not  simply  monstrous  and  degrading  in  itself, 
but  the  forerunner  of  every  other,  had  more  than  once 


\__ 


l^CARTlg. 


47 


expressed  his  horror  of  a  professed  gamester  in  my  pre- 
sence; and  although  I  had  not  hitherto  attached  the  full 
import  of  the  term  to  my  casual  indulgence,  now  that 
my  feelings  were  so  susceptibly  alive  to  the  slightest 
impression  of  alarm,  I  shuddered  at  the  bare  possibility 
of  his  being  made  acquainted  with  the  occurrences  at 
the  Spa.  The  coolness  evident  in  his  manner  during 
my  visit  in  the  morning,  must  have  proceeded  from  some 
uncommon  cause ;  and  for  several  moments  I  admitted 
the  full  conviction,  that  what  it  was  so  much  my  interest 
to  conceal,  and  what  I  sincerely  repented  had  ever  taken 
place,  was  no  longer  a  secret. 

"  This  impression,  however,  gradually  faded  before 
the  recollection,  that  the  only  person  likely  to  bear  tes- 
timony of  my  folly  had  been  devested  of  all  motive  for 
evil  intention  in  the  restituticii  of  his  gold,  and  must  feel 
an  additional  obligation  to  silence  imposed  on  him,  in 
the  necessity  existing  for  actual  concealment.  The  re- 
serve of  Mr.  Worthington  I  therefore  attributed  to  my 
prolonged  absence ;  and  partly  tranquillized  by  the  ad- 
mission of  a  belief  so  essential  to  my  huppiness,  even 
amid  all  the  unpleasantness  attendant  on  the  idea,  I  at 
length  succeeded  in  composing  myself  to  rest.     •         *■ 

"  The  day  was  far  advanced  when  I  awoke  from  a 
deep  slumber,  into  which  I  had  finally  sunk;  and,  on 
turning  round,  the  first  thing  that  met  my  eye  was  a  let- 
ter lying  on  the  table.  Glancing  hastily  at  the  direc- 
tion, 1  perceived  it  to  be  in  the  hand-writing  pf  Mr. 
Worthington,  and  again  my  presentiments  of  evil  re- 
turned, and  the  blood  receded  from  my  cheek.  With  a 
trembling  hand  and  fainting  heart,  I  ')roke  the  seal,  and 
more  than  once  grasped  and  reli'  ,uished  the  folded 
paper,  ere  I  could  find  courage  to  i>eruse  the  contents. 
At  length,  curiosity,  and  a  desire  to  know  the  worst, 
triumphed  over  apprehension,  and,  with  an  eflbrt  of  re- 
solution, I  read  the  letter  to  the  end. 

"It  commenced  with  an  expression  of  Mr.  Worthing- 
ton's  concern  at  my  accident — an  accident,  however,  to 
which  he  said,  he  had  certainly  to  attribute  his  know- 


y 


48 


£cart£. 


P-,', 


ledge  of  a  blemish  in  my  character,  which,  until  con- 
tradicted, he  felt  himself  compelled  to  make  the  ground 
of  annulling  the  partial  engagement  formed  in  my  fa- 
vour. He  h<\d  accidentally  learnt  something  of  the 
losses  sustained  by  a  young  officer  at  the  Sp, ,  and  had 
heard  my  name  mentioned  as  one  of  those  who  were  in 
frequent  attendance  at  the  card  table:  but  as  his  infor- 
mation on  that  head  was  of  a  vague  and  uncertain 
character,  he  had  not  been  able  to  arrive  at  any  decided 
conclusion.  The  air  of  reserve  which  he  said  I  could 
not  have  failed  to  remark  in  him  the  preceding  day, 
was  at  once  the  effect  of  what  he  had  recently  heard, 
and  of  my  singular  absence  from  those  with  whom  I  had 
looked  forward  to  be  eventually  more  intimately  con- 
nected. He  had  not,  however,  any  doubt  that,  at  the 
moment  of  my  departure,  I  should  have  been  enabled  to 
reply  in  a  satisfactory  maimer  to  the  question  he  in- 
tended putting  to  me  on  the  subject  on  the  following 
day. 

'  *'  In  this  belief,  he  added,  he  had  continued  until  the 
present  moment,  when  the  receipt  of  a  letter,  from  a 
person  he  found  on  inquiry  to  be  well  known,  and 
avoided,  as  a  disreputable  character,  had  put  him  ih 
possession  of  a  detail  of  occurrences,  stated  to  have 
taken  place  at  H — is — g.  He  added,  that  he  would 
make  no  comment  on  the  singularity  and  inconsistency 
of  the  fact  (if  such)  of  my  engaging  in  a  gaming  trans- 
action, with  a  man  of  whom  I  had  not  evidently  the 
slightest  previous  knowledge,  neither  would  he  take  the 
liberty  of  recommending  any  rule  of  conduct  for  my 
future  guidance.  After  a  full  and  circumstantial  expo- 
sition of  the  objections  he  must  ever  entertain  to  the 
character  of  a  gambler,  (and  if  what  had  been  urged 
was  true,  the  principle  of  play  must  be  inherent  in  my 
nature,)  he  concluded  by  repeating  that,  until  I  could 
afford  a  refutation  of  the  contents  of  the  letter  in  ques- 
tion— and  my  simple  denial  would  be  sufficient — I  must 
for  ever  I'enounce  all  thoughts  of  his  daughter. 

"  Remorse,  shame,  grief,    rage,  despair,  and  ven- 


(?■-  1'.     ■\%Jr.<': 


mm 


ECART)^. 


49 


h,  until  con- 
e  the  ground 
ed  in  my  fa- 
;hing  of  the 
^P  I  and  had 
who  were  in 
as  his  infor- 
>d  uncertain 
any  decided 
said  I  could 
ceding  day, 
ently  heard, 
whom  I  iiad 
mately  con- 
that,  at  the 
1  enabled  to 
stion  he  in- 
e  following 

cd  until  the 
ter,  from  a 
nown,  and 
put  him  ih 
id  to  have 
he  would 
consistency 
Hng  trans- 
idently  the 
tie  take  the 
ct  for  my 
itial  expo- 
ain  to  the 
sen  urged 
ent  in  my 
il  I  could 
c  in  ques- 
t — I  must 

• 

and  ven- 


geance, were  feelings  which  crowded  tumultuously  on 
my  heart  during  the  perusal  of  this  chilling  letter.  How 
did  I  burn  to  punish  the  unprincipled  wretch  who,  thufl 
adding  refinement  of  cruelty  to  coward  assassination, 
had  struck  so  deeply  at  the  root  of  my  happiness.  I 
could  at  the  moment  have  felt  a  savage  pleasure  in 
witnessing  the  sufferings  my  hate  and  vengeance  would 
have  inflicted.  But  of  this  there  was  no  hope.  The 
letter  before  me  intimated  that  he  had  abandoned  the 
state  for  another,  in  order  to  avoid  any  pursuit  that 
might  be  instituted. 

"  By  degrees  this  violent  feeling  subsided,  and  re- 
morse for  my  conduct,  and  grief  for  the  loss  which  that 
conduct  had  entailed,  acted  but  with  less  vehemence  on 
my  mind.  Then,  again,  all  the  impetuous  passions  of 
my  soul  rose  in  arms.  With  the  wayward  inconsistency 
of  my  age,  and  of  my  actual  impressions,  I  taxed  Mr. 
Worthington  with  duplicity  and  selfishness,  even  at  the 
moment  when  I  felt  overwhelmed  by  the  bitterest  stings 
of  self-accusation  ;  and  anxiously  seizing  an  idea  which 
inflicted  even  a  more  refined  torture,  I  nursed  into  con- 
viction the  thought  that  Agatha  repented  of  her  engage- 
ment, and  joined  with  her  father  in  casting  me  off  for 
ever. 

"  The  first  idea  which  occurred  to  me  on  regaining 
a  certain  degree  of  self-possession,  was  to  reply  to  Mr 
Worthington's  letter,  and  the  task  was  undertaken  with 
the  feelings  of  a  condemned  criminal,  who  entertains 
not  a  hope  of  that  pardon  which  the  suggestions  of  des- 
pair alone  induce  him  to  solicit.  Without  seeking  to 
veil  or  soften  down  the  folly  of  my  conduct,  I  fully 
admitted  the  accuracy  of  the  information  conveyed  to 
him  ;  but  added,  that  if  the  most  sincere  and  unqualified 
regret  could  be  considered  as  an  atonement  for  the  past, 
and  a  guaranty  for  the  future,  I  might  yet  cherish  a 
hope,  that  the  severe  though  just  determination  expressed 
in  his  letter  would  be  repealed.  ''Youth  and  thought- 
lessness I  offered  as  pleas  in  extenuation  of  my  errors  ; 
and  solemnly  promised  that  no  human  consideration 

VOL.  I.  5 


'H\ 


:^>.-i\  :..tf\  .;"<>  »: 


Wi 


^^  ,  -    '"■.■"V  '    '  ''■■V'.  ■ 


^0 


^CARTjg. 


;if- 


should  ever  induce  me  to  relapse  into  a  similar  weakness. 
I  also  made  an  affectionate  appeal  to  his  heart,  urging 
my  present  sufferings  as  a  sufficient  punishment,  and 
conjuring  him  not  to  sink  one  so  young  into  the  lowest 
abyss  of  despair,  by  retracting  an  engagement,  to  the 
fulfilment  of  which  I  had  looked  forward  with  the  most 
sanguine  hope  and  exultation. 

"  Although  I  had  formed  little  expectation  of  any  fa- 
vourable result  to  this  letter,  aware  as  I  was  of  the  stern 
severity  with  which  Mr.  Worthington  ever  adhered  to 
his  decisions,  I  felt  greatly  relieved  after  having  sealed 
and  despatched  it,  and  I  waited  his  reply  with  the  calm 
apathy  of  a  man  who  has  prepared  his  mind  for  the  worst 
evil  which  can  be  inflicted. 

"  It  was  not  until  a  late  hour  on  the  following  day 
that  a  second  communication,  couched  in  less  formal, 
but  no  less  decisive  terms,  confirmed  my  rnticipation. — 
Mr.  Worthington  confessed  himself  interested  and  touch- 
ed by  the  candour  of  my  avowal,  but  repeated  his  firm 
intention  never  to  intrust  the  happiness  of  his  daughter 
to  one  who,  even  at  that  early  age,  had  given  proofs  of 
a  passion  for  which  he  could  find  no  excuse,  and  which, 
once  rooted,  could  never  be  wholly  eradicated.  He 
stated,  that  Agatha  had  been  made  acquainted  with  his 
determination,  and  knew  her  duty  as  a  child  ;  but  he 
preserved  an  absolute  silence  in  respect  to  the  manner  in 
which  that  determination  had  been  received.  The  let- 
ter was  closed  with  an  expression  of  regret  for  the 
circumstances  which  had  given  rise  to  our  epistolary 
communications,  and  a  hope  that  I  would  not  attribute 
the  decision  he  had  been  compelled  to  adopt  to  caprice, 
but  to  the  watchful  jealousy  of  a  father,  anxious  for  the 
future  felicity  of  his  child. 

"  There  is  a  limit  in  human  suffering,  as  in  human 
pleasure,  beyond  which  the  delicacy  of  our  mental 
organization  will  not  suffer  us  to  advance.  The  peru- 
sal of  this  second  letter,  instead  of  calling-  forth  the  more 
turbulent  passions  which  had  hitherto  raged  with  such 
ungovernable  violence  in  my  breast,  was  attended  by 


■■■^.•~  _ 


^CARTJ^. 


51 


a  calm,  a  sensation  of  indifference,  for  whicii  I  could 
not  then  account,  and  with  which  I  felt  extremely  dis- 
satisfied. Vexed  at  this  tranquillity,  I  accused  myself 
of  coldness  and  insensibility,  and  tried  to  arouse  my 
feelings  to  their  original  intenseness.  I  thought  of 
Agatha— of  all  I  had  lost  with  her  ;  and  I  endeavoured 
to  persuade  myself  that  anger  and  disappointment  should 
be  my  predominant  emotions.  But  in  vain  did  I  strive 
to  excite  myself.  The  chords  of  my  mind  had  been 
stretched  too  far,  and,  weakened  by  use,  they  could  no 
longer  regain  their  former  elasticity.  I  experienced, 
moreover,  a  kind  of  sullen  joy  in  cherishing  the  thought 
that  she  for  whom  my  heart  bled  at  every  pore,  had  re- 
ceived the  communication  from  her  father  with  uncon- 
cern, or  that  she  found  no  difficulty  in  consoling  herself 
for  the  sacrifice  of  her  lover,  in  the  idea  of  duty  attached 
to  the  accomplishment  of  a  parent's  wishes.  This  im- 
pression, added  to  the  circumstance  of  her  never  having 
once  sent  to  inquire  after  the  health  of  him  she  affected 
to  love,  and  who,  she  must  be  well  aware,  then  lay, 
wounded,  and  on  a  bed  of  suffering,  tended  to  confirm 
me  in  my  apathy. 

"  I  had  not,  however,  been  forgotten.  About  an 
hour  after  the  receipt  of  Mr.  Worthington's  letter,  a 
more  gentle  missive  was  brought  to  me  by  a  female 
confidential  slave.  It  was  from  the  aunt  of  Agatha, 
and  contained  the  most  touching  expressions  of  concern 
for  the  unhappy  circumstances  which  had  led  to  her 
brother's  rupture  of  our  engagement.  By  this  excellent 
woman  I  had  ever  been  regarded  as  a  son,  and  her  kind 
nature  now  wept  for  the  sorrows  she  could  only  endea- 
vour to  alleviate.  Agatha,  who  had  been  deeply  affect- 
ed by  the  command  of  her  father  to  abandon  all  idea  of 
having  her  fate  united  to  mine,  was  confined  to  her  bed, 
where  she  now  dictated  those  assurances  of  tender  inter- 
est and  unchanging  affection,  which  her  gentle  and 
pitying  relative  hesitated  not  to  transcribe.  After  inti- 
mating the  possibility  of  a  more  favourable  change  in 
our  prospects  being  effected  in  the  course  of  time,  she 


tr,'  >V»i\"  "  ■•.,t.*v»"t.«ii\        -'-"th* M.n!-.^«»>-.,K  ""vc*....,...^,,** 


la 


^CART^. 


"" 


concluded  by  recommending  the  utmost  caution  in  re- 
plying to  her  letter,  as,  although  her  heart  condemned 
not  the  step  she  was  pursuing,  she  appirehended  a  more 
rigid  censor  in  her  brother. 

*'  In  my  reply,  I  painted  to  Agatha  all  the  cruel  suf- 
ferings by  which  I  had  been  assailed  since  our  separa- 
tion—repeated my  firm  resolution  never  to  forget  or 
prove  fuse  to  the  vows  we  had  interchanged — and, 
alter  pouring  forth  the  grateful  acknowledgments  of 
my  heart  to  her  aunt,  concluded,  by  soliciting  her,  in 
the  name  of  that  tender  affection  she  had  ever  borne 
me,  to  contrive  an  interview  with  Agatha  prior  to  our 
departure,  which  had  been  finally  decided  on  for  the 
eniuinff  week. 

**  My  request  was  accorded ;  and  the  last  evening  we 
were  to  spend  in  F— -k — t,  was  that  fixed  on  for  our 
meeting.  How  anxiously  did  I  await  the  moment  which 
was  to  g^ve  Agatha,  perhaps  for  the  last  time,  to  my 
view— bow  often  did  my  imagination  dwell  on  the  rap- 
ture I  should  feel  in  pressing  her  once  more  to  my  heart, 
and  in  hearing  her  lips  avow  her  ceaseless  love.  It 
seemed  to  me  as  though  I  had  never  sufficiently  availed 
myself  of  my  former  happiness,  and  that  every  moment 
which  had  not  been  passed  in  her  presence,  had  indeed 
been  lost  to  me  irreparably  and  for  ever. 

**  At  length  the  moment  arrived  which  was  to  see  me 
stealing  like  a  midnight  thief  to  the  presence  of  her  who 
had  lately,  and  with  a  father's  sanction,  regarded  me  as 
the  being  destined  to  be  her  companion  and  friend 
throughout  existence.  The  mansion  of  Mr.  Worthing- 
ton  was  situated  in  an  isolated  quarter  of  the  town,  and 
immediately  opposite  to  the  building  in  which  our  party 
was  lodged.  An  extensive  garden  communicated  by  a 
small  entrance  with  an  alley,  which  was  generally  de- 
serted after  a  certain  hour  in  the  evening ;  and  towards 
that  entrance,  the  key  of  which  had  been  conveyed  to  me 
by  the  Mime  confidential  slave,  I  now  directed  my  course. 
My  wound,  which,  I  have  already  remarked,  had  been 
superficial,  wai  already  closed,  and  a  slight  debility  the 


-^ 


'# 
s 


^'f^■. 


mm 


•'./■ 


igCART^. 


only  ill  effect  remaining.  No  interruption  of  any  kind 
retarded  i^y  progress ;  and,  turning  the  key  widi  cau- 
tion, the  door  flew  open,  and  in  the  next  instant  Agatha 
was  in  my  arms. 

« With  what  emotions  of  delight  did  I  recelire  the 
chaste  and  tender  caresses  of  this  amiable  girl— tear- 
mingled  caresses,  of  which  her  excellent  aunt,  by  whom, 
she  was  accompanied,  did  not  once  deem  it  necessary  to 
disapprove.  Mr.  Worthington  had  anengagement  to  dine, 
and  was  not  expected  until  a  late  hour,  so  that  the  pre- 
sent was  at  least  not  embittered  by  the  dread  of  interrup- 
tion. Miss  Worthington  soon  retired  to  a  distant  part 
of  the  garden ;  and  then  it  was  that  our  feelings,  hitherto 
restrained  by  the  presence  of  her  we  loved,  overflowed 
in  all  the  luxury  of  passionate  tenderness.  Protesta- 
tions of  never-dying  afiection  fell  from  our  trembling 
lips,  which,  in  the  next  instant,  were  pressed  to  each 
other,  as  if  the  soul  of  each  would  ac  •3  passed  into  the 
earthly  tenement  of  the  object  oi  ^  '  1  latry.  Our 
hands  were  clasped  within  each  other,  d>'i  tie  throbbing 
bosom  of  Agatha  beat  warm  against  my  heart,  as  her 
pale  cheek,  coloured  only  by  the  hectic  tinge  of  momen- 
tary passion,  pressed  against  my  own — her  light  hair 
flowing  gracefully  over  her  shoulders  from  beneath  her 
loose  hat,  and  her  blue  eyes  fixed  on  mine  with  soul- 
touching  expression.  The  eloquence  of  silence  alone 
proclaimed  our  feeling,  and  the  stillness  of  the  night 
was  unbroken,  except  by  the  faint  breeze  playing  among 
the  orange  trees,  which  lulled  us  even  more  into  forget- 
fulness  of  the  past,  and  disregard  for  the  future.  The 
close  embrace  in  which  we  were  fondly  locked,  became 
gradually  yet  closer,  until  our  glowing  forms  appeared 
as  one,  and  the  pulsation  of  each  other's  arteries  could 
be  distinctly  felt  by  both. 

"  ♦  Frederick,'  murmured  the  half-fainting  girl,  in  ac- 
cents which  thrilled  through  my  inmost  soul,  while  a  con- 
vulsive tremor  shook  her  frame,  ♦  I  am  yours  for  ever  I' 

"  I  gazed  again  upon  her  cheek — it  was  suflused  with 
burning  blushes.     For  worlds,  however,  I  would   not 

5» 


¥^ 


54 


J^CARTJ^. 


have  sullied  the  purity  of  confiding  ifinocence  i  and  the 
tender,  beauteous,  and  now  impassioned  Agatha,  was  to 
me  a  being  *  hallowed  and  enshrined/  Clifibrd,  there 
exists  not  on  earth  a  bliss  equal  to  that  I  then  enjoyed. 
White  virtue  ceased  not  a  moment  to  throw  her  protect- 
ing mande  around  us,  our  being  was  dissolved  in  rap- 
tate,  and  every  thing  in  existence,  save  ourselves,  was 
forgotten.  The  illusion,  however,  was  too  soon  and  too 
cruelly  dispelled,  by  the  approach  of  Miss  Worthington, 
who  now  entered  the  arbour  in  which  we  were  seated ; 
and,  in  proclaiming  the  lateness  of  the  hour,  hinted  at 
the  necessity  f6r  separating.  Again  we  vowed  before 
heaven,  and  in  the  presence  of  this  amiable  woman,  to 
live  for  each  other,  and  never,  under  any  circumstances, 
to  pledge  that  faith  to  another,  which  had  been  so  often, 
and  so  solemnly,  exchanged  between  us.  As  the  moment 
approached  which  was  to  tear  us  asunder  for  years — ^per- 
haps for  ever-— our  hearts  beat  wildly,  and  the  cruel 
adieu  was  uttered  a  thousand  times,  before  I  could  find 
courage  to  depart.  Miss  Worthington  sought  to  inspire 
us  with  new  strength,  in  the  assurance  that  every  effort 
should  be  made,  by  herself,  lo  efiect  a  change  in  the  sen- 
timents of  her  brother ;  and  after  pressing  me  affec- 
tionately to  her  heart,  conjured  me  not  to  relapse  into 
the  indulgence  of  follies  which  had  already  cost,  not  only 
myself,  but  Agatha,  so  dear.  I  Returned  her  embrace 
with  warmth,  and  promised  to  b^  all  she  desired ;  then 
taking  a  final  leave  of  the  now  pale  and  trembling  girl, 
on  whose  lips  I  left  the  last  imprint  of  love,  I  at  length 
succeeded  in  tearing  myself  from  the  spot. 

"  The  remainder  of  the  night  was  passed  in  a  kind  of 
wild  delirium.  My  agitated  slumbers  took  their  colour- 
ing from  the  events  of  the  evening ;  and  Agatha,  gay, 
animated,  and  happy,  chased  the  image  of  the  pale, 
weeping,  disconsolate  girl,  that  had  the  instant  before 
occupied  my  dreams.  Feverish  and  restless,  I  arose  at 
an  early  hour  to  make  preparations  for  my  departure. 
These  accomplished,  I  descended  to  the  front  of  the 
hotel,  where  my  companions  were  already  assembled, 


A'   ■ 


•■>'• 


^OART^* 


li 


and  selecting  their  horses  from  the  number  which  had 
been  brought  for  our  service*  Joy  sparkled  on  every 
countenance,  and  animated  the  movements  of  all.—* 
Those  only  who  have  known  the  rigour  and  restraint  of 
captivity,  can  enter  into  the  delight  experienced  by  the 
languishing  prisoner,  when  restored  to  that  liberty  with- 
out which  lijfe  has  no  charm  and  sufiering  no  endi— 
Every  heart  was  light,  save  mine ;  and  while  all  awaited 
with  impatience  the  arrival  of  the  officers  appointed  to 
conduct  us,  mine  throbbed  with  despondency  at  the  idea 
of  quitting  scenes  endeared  to  me  by  the  first  and  purest 
transports  of  affection* 

"  Turning  mv  eyes  towards  that  point  where  all  my 
thoughts  were  then  directed,  I  beheld  Agatha  on  the 
balcony,  leaning  on  the  arm  of  her  aunt.  She  was 
clad  in  a  loose  morning  robe  of  purest  white,  alternately 
floating  in  the  breeze,  and  delineating  her  gracefht  pro* 
portions.  Her  cheek  was  pale,  and  half  concealea  by 
the  handkerchief  with  which  she  wiped  away  the  tears. 
No  eye  beheld  her  save  mine,  for  every  other  wai  differ- 
ently engaged,  and  I  seized  the  opportunity  to  press  my 
hand  on  my  heart,  and  to  waft  a  silent  adieu,  which  wan 
immediately  returned  by  her  aunt— -Agatha  remaining 
motionless  with  grief,  and  incapable  of  action. 

"  Many  of  those  gentlemen,  whose  hospitality  had  left 
an  indelible  impression  on  our  minds,  were  collected  to 
bid  us  a  final  farewell ;  and  our  imposing  cavalcade* 
only  awaited  the  signal  of  the  colonel  of  my  regiment, 
then  engaged  in  earnest  conversation  with  Mr.  Wor- 
thington.  In  a  (ew  minutes  they  separated,  and  the  latter 
gentleman,  for  the  first  time  since  my  receipt  of  hli  letter, 
advanced  to  salute  me.  Deeply  as  I  felt  myself  wounded 
by  the  unbending  severity  of  his  nature,  I  could  not  b« 
insensible  to  any  mark  of  kindness  from  the  parent  of 
her  I  loved  ;  and  to  the  pressure  of  his  hand,  and  the 
wish,  emphatically  expressed,  for  my  future  happiness, 
I  could  notreply  without  emotion.  Again  I  stole  a  look 
at  Agatha,  as  I  left  a  parting  prayer  with  her  father-- 
her  agitation  had  increased,  and  her  tears  evidfntlv 


:4  '1 


i6 


tCAKTi. 


flowed  without  restraunt.  Her  sensibility  had  beec  ex* 
cited  to  the  highest  pitch  by  the  uniexpected  movement 
of  her  father,  and  she  could  with  difficulty  support  her- 
self. The  signal  was  now  given,  and  the  partv  moved 
off.  Again  I  pressed  the  extended  hand  of  Mr.  Wor- 
thington,  and  silently  followed.  On  turning  the  angle 
of  a  street,  I  waved  a  final  adieu,  which  was  immediately 
returned  by  Agatha,  and  in  the  next  instant  she  was  lost 
to  my  anxious  gaze  for  ever. 

"  It  was  long  before  my  spirits  could  acquire  any 
portion  of  that  gayety  which  sparkled  on  the  features  of 
my  happier  companions ;  and  during  our  long  ride 
through  the  wilderness,  I  often  lingered  behind,  to  in- 
dulge without  interruption  in  my  melancholy  reflections. 
On  the  evening  previous  to  my  departure,  Agatha  had 
presented  me  with  her  -portrait,  executed  with  singular 
fidelity.  To  gaze  unobserved  on  the  beautiful  features 
was  now  my  principal  delight,  and  grateful  did  I  feel  for 
the  gift  of  this  angelic  girl ;  not,  however,  that  this  was 
necessary  to  recall  her  image  to  my  mind,  since,  in  the 
surrounding  scenery,  I  beheld  but  one  object— the  form 
of  Agatha,  which  floated  before  my  vision  as  we  journey- 
ed onwards.  On  the  mountain,  in  the  flood,  in  the  ca- 
taract, in  the  plain,  and  in  the  forest,  I  beheld  but  Aga- 
tha. Now,  with  eyes  softened  into  more  than  woman's 
tenderness,  her  full  and  unsullied  bosom  swelling  tumul- 
tuously  with  the  feelings  she  dared  not  encourage,  but 
could  not  wholly  repress — now  such  as  she  appeared  at 
the  moment  of  our  departure  from  F-«— k— t,  pale,  sufler- 
ing,  weeping,  and  personifying  in  her  languor  the  image 
of  despairing  loveliness. 

<*  Those  were  the  situations  in  which  ihe  appeared 
more  generally  to  my  mental  view ;  and  in  the  contem- 
plation of  the  picture  my  thoughts  were  frequently  for 
hours  absorbed.  At  length,  this  intenseness  of  feeling 
began  gradually  to  subside ;  and  as  we  approached  the 
frontier,  the  consolation  aflbrded  by  the  poi session  of 
the  portrait,  and  the  certainty  of  receiving  letters  from 
Agatha,  to  whom  1  had  given  the  address  of  a  mer- 


i 

1 


^cart£. 


57 


uhant  ia  Lower  Canadu,  acting  as  my  banker,  once 
more  awakened  the  dormant  energies  of  my  mind. 


CHAPTER  V. 


"  On  my  arrival  in  Canada,  I  found  that,  prior  to  the 
receipt  of  intelligence  in  England,  announcing  our  cap- 
tivity, I  had  been  promoted  to  a  lieutenancy  in  one  of 
the  regiments  serving  with  the^Duke  of  Wellington  in 
Flanders  ;  and  as  the  treaty,  soon  afterwards  concluded 
between  England  and  America,  had  opened  a  commu- 
nication by  the  way  of  New- York,  which  could  not  be 
effected  until  a  much  later  period  by  the  ice-encumberr 
ed  St.  Lawrence,  I  made  every  necessary  preparation 
for  my  departure  through  the  United  States.  Somewhat 
encouraged  by  the  contents  of  two  long  and  affectionate 
letters  from  Agatha,  whose  gentle,  yet  drooping  soul, 
spoke  in  every  line,  and  after  having  taken  a  kind  fare- 
well of  the  gallant  corps  in  which  I  had  made  my  d^t 
in  arms,  and  provided  myself  with  letters  from  the  com- 
manding officer  to  my  new  colonel,  I  left  Montreal  early 
in  the  month  of  March.  The  season  of  1814  and  1815 
had  been  the  severest  known  in  Canada  for  many  years, 
and  my  journey  was  performed  across  Lake  Champlain, 
on  the  bosom  of  which  two  gallant  and  hostile  fleets 
had  only  a  few  months  before  contended  for  mastery. 
Now  wrapped  in  its  winter  garb  of  ice  and  snow,  it  pre- 
sented an  aspect  of  sternest  rudeness,  while  the  congre- 
gated mass  of  congealed  matter  scarce  even  trembled  be- 
neath the  weight  of  the  ponderous  sleigh  in  which  I  was 
rapidly  borne  by  two  small,  swift,  and  vigorous  horses. 

"  On  reaching  New- York,  I  learnt  that  no  vessel 
would  sail  until  late  in  April.  This  was  a  severe  disap- 
pointment, as  I  had  experienced  much  relief  in  the  pre- 


59 


l^CART^. 


vious  constant  state  of  motion,  which,  in  directing  my 
attention  to  the  stupendous  and  imposing  objects  thet 
surrounded  me,  had  softened  much  of  the  asperity  of 
regret.  The  evil  could  not,  however,  be  remedied  ; 
and  while  I  felt  pained  and  annoyed  at  the  idea  of  being 
once  more  an  inhabitant  of  the  same  soil  with  Agatha, 
without  a  possibility  of  beholding  her,  I  found  some 
compensation  in  the  opportunity  thus  afforded  for  com- 
municating, once  more,  and  at  length,  with  her  I  loved. 
Meanwhile,  I  had  renewed  an  acquaintance  with  the 

amiable  famJ'^  of  General  H ,  an  officer,  who  had 

fallen  into  the  hands  of  our  division  at  the  commence- 
ment of  the  war  ;  and  in  the  select  and  limited  circle  to 
which  they  introduced  me,  I  passed  the  intermediate 
period.  The  daughters  of  the  General  were  elegant, 
well  informed,  accomplished  young  women.  What 
constituted  their  chief  value  in  my  eyes,  however,  was 
their  proving  to  be  old  friends  and  companions  of 
Agatha,  from  whom  they  had  only  been  separated  by 
the  events  of  the  war.  They  were  not  aware  of  any 
attachment  existing  between  us,  although  they  had  been 
apprized  of  our  acquaintance ;  and  the  encomiums  which 
fell  from  their  lips  when  speaking  of  their  friend,  were 
grateful  to  my  heart,  because  1  knew  them  to  be  volun- 
tary and  unstudied. 

"  Several  weeks  had  elapsed  without  bringing  a  reply 
to  my  letter,  and  the  departure  of  the  packet  for  Liver- 
pool was  announced  as  an  immediate  event  before  it 
finally  arrived.  How  different  was  the  style,  how  forced 
the  expressions  which  it  contained.  Assurances  of  affec- 
tion it  breathed  ;  but  they  were  tame  and  passionless, 
and  so  unlike  those  of  the  Agatha  I  had  known,  that 
my  full  heart  swelled  with  disappointment,  and  sickened 
with  despair.  Again  and  again  I  examined  the  hand- 
writing, and  dwelt  on  the  signature.  I  could  not  be 
mistaken  ;  the  characters  were  those  of  her  whose  words 
were  late  all  tenderness  and  interest,  and  my  heart  be- 
came  again  a  prey  to  the  deepest  suffering. 

"  One  long  letter,  expressive  of  my  wounded  feelings 


r 


£cart£. 


£9 


^nd  my  lurprige,  preceded  my  embarkation;  and  in 
liomewnat  leii  than  a  month,  wafted  by  propitious  winds, 
we  reached  Liverpool,  where  I  found  a  vessel  preparing 
(0  tail  for  Oitend*  In  this  I  immediately  embarked,  and 
in  a  few  dayi  had  the  good  fortune  to  find  myself  on 
the  grand  theatre  so  long  distinguished  for  battles  and 
for  warriori— on  the  soil  whose  fair  fields  were  again 
speedily  to  be  moistened  with  human  blood,  and  nour- 
ished by  human  putrefaction. 

"  The  d^p6t  of  my  regiment  was  stationed  at  Ostend, 
but  the  corps  itself  was  at  Brussels,  where  I  joined  it 
early  in  June.     The  operations  of  that  month  are  known 
(0  all  the  world,  and  have  been  described  by  many  pens. 
(  will  limply  relate  a  circumstance  which  happened  to 
myielf  on  the  memorable  1 8th,  and  which  a  very  recent 
occurrence,  that  shall  be  explained  in  due  season,  has 
forcibly  and  painfully  recalled  to  my  mind.  During  one 
of  the  chargei  made  near  Hougoumont,  1  received  a  se- 
vere contusion  on  the  head,  and  was  felled  to  the  earth. 
Stunned  by  the  blow,  I  continued  for  some  seconds 
incapable  or  movement,but  at  length  succeeded  in  raisiilg 
myielf  on  my  knees.  At  this  moment,  the  enemy's  co- 
lumns, poweifully  supported,  had  obtained  a  temporary 
advantage,   and  were  rapidly  advancing.     I  made  a 
desperate  e^ort  to  regain  my  feet ;  but  sunk,  tottering 
and  feeble,'  in  the  same  attitude.     I  now  gave  myself  up 
for  lost,  for  already  the  bayonets  of  several  French 
grenadifrs— their  eyes  sparkling  with  furious  excite- 
ment—were  crossed   in  the  direction   of  my  breast, 
when  an  officer,  whom  I  immediately  recognised,  by  his 
epaulettei  and  authoritative  manner,  to  be  their  com- 
mander, rushed  forward,  and  saved  me  from  impend- 
ing death.    There  was  no  time  for  acknowledgments. 
I  presif  d  his  hand,  in  token  of  gratitude  for  the  service 
thus  opportunely  rendered  me,  and  was  instantly  des- 
patched to  tile  rear  of  the  regiment,  which  proved  to 
be  the  forty-first  of  the  line.  I  did  not,  however,  long 
remain  a  prisoner,  for  my  division,  reinforced  by  a  few 
squadroni  of  cavalry,  again  advanced  to  the  charge, 


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and  the  French  columns  being  vigorously  repulsed,  the 
few  prisoners  they  had  taken  were  speedily  recaptured 
by  the  victors. 

"  The  battle  of  Waterloo  having  once  more  opened 
the  gates  of  Paris  to  our  troops,  the  scenes  of  1 8 1 4  were 
renewed.  The  duels  which  took  place  in  every  quarter 
between  the  French  and  allied  officers,  were  carried  to 
an  alarming  extent,  and  were  principally  fatal  to  the 
.  Prussians,  between  whom  and  the  French  the  most 
deadly  hatred  had  long  since  subsisted.  The  spirit  of 
animosity  which  actuated  the  conduct  of  both  parties 
was  not  to  be  extinguished,  although  the  assassinations, 
for  such  they  might  be  termed,  which  almost  hourly 
took  place,  at  length  called  for  the  exercise  of  the  strict- 
est vigilance  on  the  part  of  the  police,  and  the  serious 
interposition  of  the  several  military  leaders.   - .^v  /•  > 

"  While  quartered  in  the  vicinity  of  the  French  capi- 
tal, I  made  frequent  inquiries  after  the  colonel,  who  had 
so  generously  preserved  my  life ;  but  from  all  I  could 
learn,  he  had  perished  towards  the  close  of  the  engage- 
ment : — more  immediate  and  positive  information  I  was 
unable  to  obtain,  in  consequence  of  my  recall  to  England 
to  join  the  depot  of  a  cavalry  regiment  then  in  India,  in 
which  my  father  had  purchased  me  a  troop.  On  reach- 
ing my  hotel  in  Jermyn-street,  I  found  a  letter  from 
Agatha,  which  had  been  forwarded  from  Montreal  by 
my  Canadian  banker.  The  style  of  this  communica- 
tion was  even  more  chilling  than  that  of  the  last,  and 
there  were  evident  allusions  to  the  propriety  of  a  daugh- 
ter -sacrificing  her  affections  to  filial  duty,  which  com- 
pletely opened  my  eyes  to  the  change  which  had  taken 
place  in  her  sentiments.  In  a  paroxysm  of  rage,  I  not 
only  tore  the  letter  into  fragments,  but  removing  the 
portrait  from  my  breast  where  it  had  hitherto  remained 
suspended,  I  dashed  it  with  violence  against  the  walls  of 
my  apartment. 

"  Soon  afterwards,  I  took  leave  of  my  family,  and 
proceeded  on  board  an  £ast-Indiaman  to  my  destination 
in  Madras.     My  fellow  passengers  were  numerous,  and , 


ri 


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«t' 


consisted  chiefly  oi*  officers  of  cavalry  and  infantry, 
going  out,  like  myself,  to  join  their  respective  corps ; 
while  the  society  was  certainly  rendered  not  less  cheer- 
ful by  the  presence  of  a  number  of  married  and  single 
ladies.  Many  of  the  former  were  embarked  in  order  to 
join  th^ir  husbands ;  and  the  latter,  for  the  chief  part, 
were  now  crossing  the  Atlantic  on  a  matrimonial  specu- 
lation. The  whole,  with  very  few  exceptions,  were 
lovely  and  fascinating  women ;  j^et  in  vain  did  I  seek, 
in  their  lively  and  agreeable  conversation,  to  forget  the 
dereliction  of  Agatha.  Her  image  was  too  deeply 
rooted  in  my  breast,  and  Agatha,  such  as  I  had  known 
her  on  the  night  of  our  final  separation,  was  ever  pre- 
sent to  my  recollection,  acting  as  a  talisman  against  the 
temptations  by  which  I  was  assailed.  This  state  of 
intense  thought  amounted  sometimes  to  torture :  and, 
satisfied  that  I  had  nothing  now  to  hope,  I  yielded  to 
the  example  of  my  companions,  and  sought  to  drown 
reflection  in  the  bottle.  One  excess  generally  leads  to 
another:  again  I  played,  for  it  seemed^in  doing  so  that 
I  revenged  myself  on  both  father  and-^Uwghter,  and  this 
wild  idea  frequently  inspired  me  with  a  feeling  of  sullen 
satisfaction. 

"  On  joining  my  regiment,  I  found  every  opportunity 
of  feeding  my  newly  revived  passion.  Horse-racing,  the 
favourite  amusement  in  India,  was  carried  on  to  a 
ruinous  extent  in  the  corps,  while  the  nights  were  fre- 
quently consumed  at  the  card-table.  Often,  to  my 
shame  be  it  confessed,  as  the  morning  trumpet  sounded 
to  horse,  have  I  risen,  pale  anil  harassed  from  the  board 
at  which  I  had  seated  myself  the  preceding  evening, 
and  weak  as  from  the  eflfect  of  intoxication,  thrown 
myself  into  the  saddle,  where  I  could  with  difficulty 
preserve  my  equilibrium.  The  only  society  in  which  I 
ibund  pleasure,  when  not  engaged  in  this  ruinous  amuse- 
ment, was  that  of  my  colonel  and  his  daughter,  a  fine  and 
accomplished  young  woman,  who  had  recently  sustain- 
ed a  heavy  loss  in  the  death  of  a  tender  and  afi*ection- 
ate  mother;  but  the  habit  arfd  principle  of  play  at  length 

VOL.  I.  6 


lit-: 


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acquired  so  decided  an  ascendancy  over  my  mind,  tiial 
every  moment  stolen  from  my  now  favourite  occupation, 
seemed  a  tax  on  my  happiness,  and  I  gradually  \vitli> 
drew  from  the  indmacy  of  their  society.  During  my 
occasional  visits,  however,  I  thought  I  could  trace  on 
the  brow  of  the  benevolent  colonel,  not  the  repelling 
coldness  of  the  offended  superior,  but  the  anxious  in- 
terest of  the  compassionating  friend,  and  more  than 
once  I  fancied  I  beheld  a  disposition  to  use  the  lan- 
guage of  remonstrance,  which  was  ever  apparently 
checked  by  some  secret  recollection. 

"  Nearly  a  year  had  now  elapsed  since  my  arrival  in 
India,  and  I  had  involved  myself  to  so  large  an  amount, 
that  my  embarrassments  ceased  to  be  a  secret,  while  va- 
rious rumours  were  but  too  industriously  conveyed  to 
the  ears  of  my  commanding  officer.  Then  it  was,  for 
the  first  time,  that  I  was  fully  awakened  to  a  due  sense 
of  the  guilty  weakness  with  which  I  had  been  cursed: 
for  in  the  private  conference  which  ensued,  at  his  re- 
quest, I  found  that  I  had  again,  and  for  ever,  dashed 
every  fairer  prospect  of  felicity  from  my  reach.  Think, 
Clifford,  what  must  have  been  my  emotions,  on  disco- 
vering that  although  Mr.  Worthington  had  so  sternly 
and  cruelly  rejected  every  mark  of  contrition  contained 
in  my  letters,  he  had  resolved  not  to  cast  me  off  without 
a  further  and  decisive  trial.  In  order  to  ascertain  whe- 
ther this  unhappy  propensity  was  inherent,  or  merely 
the  result  of  circumstances,  and  the  peculiar  position  in 
which  I  had  been  momentarily  placed,  it  was  necessary 
to  give  me  no  hope,  since,  widi  such  an  incentive  to  good 
conduct  as  the  ultimate  possession  of  Agatha,  it  might 
naturally  be  inferred,  I  would  not  again  speedily  deviate 
into  the  commission  of  error.  His  dread  of  compro- 
mising the  future  happiness  of  his  child,  had  compelled 
him,  however  unwillingly,  to  inflict  this  severe  trial  on 
my  mind,  but  in  that  manner  only  could  he  decide  in 
regard  to  the  actual  tendency  of  my  inclinations  and 
pursuits. 

'♦  Mr.  Worthington  had  obtained  the  promise  of  my 


form 
him 
with 
and 
at  & 


**■ 


£cart£. 


former  commanding  officer  to  watch  over  and  acquaint 
iiim  with  the  actions  of  one,  whose  projected  alliance 
with  his  family  sanctioned  the  adoption  of  the  measure, 
and  this,  it  appeared,  was  the  subject  of  their  conference 
at  the  moment  of  our  departure  from  F — k — t.  The 
same  request  had  been  continued  to  my  present  colonel, 
while  the  motives,  under  an  injunction  of  secrecy,  were 
sufficiently  explained.  With  pain  and  anxiety,  this  ex- 
cellent man  had  remarked  my  imprudences,  and  fore- 
seen the  serious  evils  they  threatened  to  entail ;  but  the 
word  he  had  given,  and  the  necessity  he  felt  of  justice 
being  rendered  to  the  views  and  intentions  of  Mr. 
Worthington,  precluded  all  possibility  of  his  warning  me 
of  my  danger,  and  stepping  forward  to  my  assistance. 
All  that  he  could  do,  was  to  express  his  decided  disap- 
probation of  gambling,  to  the  corps ;  but  though  few  of 
the  officers  sought  openly  to  brave  his  opinion,  many 
secret  opportunities  were  found  for  indulging  a  propen- 
sity, in  which,  unhappily  for  my  future  hopes,  I  stood 
principally  conspicuous.  With  a  reluctant  hand  and 
heart,  he  had  at  length  been  compelled  to  convey  to  his 
friend  the  painful  conviction  of  my  utter  devotedness  to 
this  ruinous  vice,  and  that  communication  had  already 
been,  or  speedily  would  be,  transmitted  to  the  father  of 
Agatha. 

"  I  will  not  attempt  to  describe  the  feelings  with 
which  I  listened  to  this  recital.  It  was  now  evident  that 
my  fate  was  decided,  and  that  every  avenue  to  a  recon- 
ciliation with  Mr.  Worthington  was  closed  upon  me  for 
ever.  In  all  the  bitterness  of  despair,  I  cursed  the  va- 
cillation and  weakness  of  my  character  ;  and  accusing 
the  colonel  of  having  acted  the  ignoble  part  of  a  spy 
on  my  actions,rushed  from  the  apartment. 

"  When  soothed  into  something  like  reason  by  re- 
flection, I  felt  the  injustice  of  my  conduct ;  and,  resolv- 
ing to  call  on  the  following  morning  and  make  the  am- 
plest and  most  heartfelt  apology  to  the  colonel,  I  once 
more  recurred  to  the  peculiar  character  of  my  destiny. 
Had  I  not  been  made  acquainted  with  the  latent  pur- 


«*. 


£cart6. 


^^  ^m 


pose  of  Mr.  Worthington,  I  should  still  have  enjoyed 
that  state  of  comparative  ease  into  which  I  had  worked 
myself  by  dissipation,  and  a  degree  of  thoughtlessness 
that  had  latterly  become  habitual  to  me  ;  but,  alas  !  the 
conviction  that  an  opportunity  had  been  afforded  for 
redeeming  my  early  errors,  and  the  cruel  consciousness 
that  that  opportunity  had  been  abused  and  lost  for  ever, 
were  circumstances  fraught  with  bitterness  to  my  future 
peace.  Yet  the  singular  change  in  the  style  of  Agatha's 
letters  accorded  not  with  the  story  of  her  father's  reser- 
vation, and  I  vainly  sought  to  reconcile  the  inconsis- 
tency. 

"  I  was  recalled  from  a  train  of  deep  reflections  to 
which  this  communication  had  given  rise,  by  the  en- 
trance of  Captain  W ,  an  officer  of  artillery,  with 

a  message  from  the  colonel,  and  a  meeting  was  ap- 
pointed for  the  following  morning  at  daybreak.  Al- 
though my  heart  yearned  to  express  the  full  measure  of 
its  regret,  yet,  as  a  meeting  had  been  peremptorily  de- 
manded, there  was  no  alternative,  and  at  the  first  faint 
glimmering  of  light  in  the  east,  I  hastened,  accompanied 
by  a  friend,  to  a  distant  jungle,  which  had  been  desig- 
nated as  the  place  of  rendezvous.  The  ground  having 
been  measured,  and  our  stations  taken,  the  signal  was 
given,  when  the  colonel's  ball  passed  unwounding  by 
my  side,  and  spent  its  fury  in  the  heart  of  the  jungle, 
while  I  discharged  my  pistol  in  the  air. 

"  Having  expressed  himself  satisfied,  I  advanced  with 
emotion,  and  in  a  manner  which  sufficiently  testified  my 
sincerity,  expressed  my  unfeigned  contrition  for  .a  remark 
which  had  been  wrung  from  me  in  the  bitterness  of  men- 
tal suffering.  The  colonel  took  my  proffered  hand, 
and  pressed  it  with  affectionate  warmth,  assuring  me  of 
his  undiminished  regard,  and  his  unaffected  sympathy 
in  my  loss,  regretting,  at  the  same  time,  that  he  should 
have  been  in  any  way  instrumental  in  directing  the  blow 
so  cruelly  aimed  at  my  happiness. 

"  The  heavy  affliction  by  which  I  was  now  visited 
was  marked,  not  by  boisterous  grief,  but  by  a  confirmed 


,SE- 


1/ 


•'■■.■■    ■■-':;  T'JW-rW  -T    'JV  ■!,-,■;'•,■.-■■■•■  ■■'<■■  r.rrv-" 


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stupor,  which  for  a  time  deprived  me  of  the  power 
of  serious  reflection.  A  new  source  of  annoyance 
springing  up,  aroused  my  facuhies  into  action.  The 
state  of  my  aflairs  had  become  more  and  more  critical, 
and  my  creditors  were  loud  in  their  demands  for  money : 
a  circumstance  which  soon  became  known  to  the  offi- 
cers of  the  corps,  by  whom  numerous  hints  of  the  neces- 
sity for  immediate  liquidation,  were  in  consequence 
thrown  out.  Stung  to  the  soul  by  the  selfishness 
and  injustice  of  those  very  men,  who,  the  first  to  profit 
by  my  weakness,  were  also  the  first  to  have  that 
weakness  arraigned,  I  with  my  usual  impetuosity 
of  character,  hastened  to  the  colonel,  and  stating  my  cir- 
cumstances, together  with  the  animadversions  of  my  bro- 
ther ofiicers,  declared  my  intention  to  sell  out  of  the  re- 
giment immediately.  In  vain  did  this  excellent  man 
endeavour  to  dissuade  me  from  the  adoption  of  a  mea- 
sure teeming  with  ruin  to  my  future  prospects  in  life ; 
and,  by  the  generous  ofier  of  his  purse,  seek  to  pre- 
clude all  positive  necessity  for  the  step.  I  was  resolute 
in  my  purpose  ;  for  no  human  consideration  could  have 
induced  me  to  continue  in  a  corps  where  the  inuendoes 
of  pretended  friends  had  been  the  first  to  proclaim  the 
exigencies  they  themselves  had  been  instrumental  in 
creating.  A  purchaser  from  another  regiment  was  soon 
found — for  I  was  resolved  that  no  subaltern  of  my  own 
should  enjoy  the  fruit  of  my  folly — and  the  necessary 
papers  were  soon  forwarded  to  England  for  approval 
and  execution. 

"  Meanwhile  I  had  almost  wholly  withdrawn  myself 
from  the  society  of  my  late  companions,  and  again  de- 
voted myself  to  that  of  the  colonel  and  his  daughter, 
whose  amiable  attentions  acted  as  a  balm  on  my  mind, 
and  somewhat  softened  the  asperity  of  feeling  which 
blighted  happiness  on  one  hand,  and  ungenerous  repre-  . 
hension  on  the  other,  had  so  cruelly  awakened.  At 
length  a  confirmation  of  the  purchase,  accompanied  by 
a  draft  for  the  amount,  arrived  from  England ;  and  I 
had  ceased  to  be  a  member  of  that  profession  for  which 

6* 


¥• 


66 


£OART^. 


I  originally  sacrificed  more  lucrative  if  not  more  honour- 
able pursuit!  in  life.  The  price  of  my  troop  proved 
just  sufficient  to  pay  my  debts,  and  provide  me  with  a 

{lassage  home ;  and  after  having  taken  an  affectionate 
eave  of  the  colonel,  who,  with  his  daughter,  expressed 
the  warmest  regret  at  my  departure,  and  a  fervent 
hope  of  a  Aiture  meeting  in  England,  I  left  the  shores 
of  India  for  ever. 

**  The  probable  consequence  of  the  step  I  was  about 
to  take,  I  had  foreseen  from  the  commencement ;  but 
acting  ever  from  the  wild  impulse  of  feeling,  it  was  not 
until  too  lata  that  I  could  dwell  with  sufficient  calmness 
on  the  imprudence  of  my  decision.  An.  exchange  into 
another  regiment  would  have  answered  all  the  purpose 
intended ;  and  a  draft  on  my  indulgent  father,  accom- 
panied by  a  statement  of  my  difficulties,  would,  I  nmo 
felt  persuaded,  have  been  met  in  such  a  manner  as  to 
have  enabled  me  to  liquidate  the  various  claims  against 
me.  But  thus  to  have  sacrificed  every  hope  of  advance- 
ment in  a  profession  in  which  I  had  already  attained  a 
respectable  rank  for  my  years,  must,  I  could  not  conceal 
from  myself,  occasion  much  pain  and  disappointment  to 
the  bosom  of  my  parent. 

"  Nor  was  1  wrong  in  my  conjecture.  The  serious 
displeasure  which  he  expressed  at  our  first  interview, 
led  to  a  misunderstanding  which  drove  me  a  volun- 
tary exile  from  my  iamily.  The  slave  of  impetuous 
passions,  my  proud  nature  could  not  brook  the  language 
of  reproach  or  condemnation,  even  from  the  author  of 
my  being ;  and  though  my  heart  suffered  from  the  con- 
viction of  my  hastiness  and  imprudence,  I  questioned 
the  right  of  another  to  interfere  with  or  arraign  my  ac- 
tions. All  that  I  now  possessed  was  an  income  of  two 
hundred  a  year,  and  with  that  sum  I  reso^  d  to  repair 
.to  the  Continent,  and  consume  a  few  years  in  travelUng 
and  visiting  the  different  places  most  worthy  of  the  at- 
tention of  the  stranger. 

"  Early  in  the  year  1821,  I  again  beheld  the  beauti- 
ful domes  of  this  metropoUs,  but,  most  unfortunately  for 
my  proJL'ctod  tonr,  met  with  a  number  of  my  acquain- 


i(  I 


£cart£. 


67 


tance— chiefly  young  men  accustomed  to  bask  in  *l\e 
sunshine  of  pleasure,  and  eager  to  seize  every  openiu^ 
to  enjoyment.  By  these  I  was  easily  persuaded  to  give 
up  the  prosecution  of  my  design  for  the  present,  and  to 
enter  into  the  gaiety  and  dissipation  peculiar  to  the  soci- 
ety to  which  they  introduced  me. 

"  Of  all  the  temptations  by  which  the  youthful  imagi- 
nation is  assailed,  perhaps  there  are  none  more  forcible 
or  better  calculated  to  effect  the  downfall  of  resolution, 
prudence,  and  moral  principle,  however  confirmed  by 
habit  or  experience,  than  those  pleasure-breathing  assem- 
blies known  in  Paris  by  the  designation  of  Salons 
(ffEcarte.  In  these  spacious  rooms,  furnished  in  the 
most  costly  manner,  and  covered  with  pier  glasses,  re- 
flecting numerous  lights  suspended  from  the  walls  in  lus- 
tres of  dazzling  brightness,  may  nightly  be  seen  recli- 
ning on  rich  ottomans,  or  surrounding  the  card  table,  r. 
host  of  beautiful  women,  whose  moulded  and  uncovered 
shoulders,  and  brilliant  animated  eyes,  acquire  additional 
loveliness  and  expression  from  the  glittering  jewels  which 
adorn  their  persons,  and  lend  a  style  of  eastern  magni- 
ficence to  the  scene. 

"  To  the  fascination  and  delusion  of  these  intoxicating 
assemblies,  I  yielded  up  my  whole  time  ;  and  night  after 
night  I  continued  to  risk  sums  of  money,  not  very  great 
in  themselves,  but  sufficiently  so  to  make  me  feel  sensi- 
ble of  the  severe  drain  on  my  very  limited  income. — 
Cheered  by  the  hope  of  eventually  retrieving  my  losses, 
and  consoled,  in  some  degree,  by  the  smiles  of  the  syrens, 
who  seemed  to  sympathize  in  my  ill  fortune,  I  still  per- 
severed ;  occasionally  cheated  by  the  chevaliers  (V indus- 
tries who  contrive  to  procure  admission  into  all  these 
houses,  but  more  frequently  the  victim  of  my  compara- 
tive ignorance  of  the  game,  and  want  of  judgment  in 
1  he  regulation  of  my  stakes.  ^ 

"  Anxious  to  recover  my  money,  and  too  much  excited 
!ty  the  constant  habit  of  play  to  deem  the  stakes  at  the 
ecarte,  table  sufficiently  high,  I  now  had  recourse  to  the 
public  gaming-house;  and  to  such  a  height  was  this  un- 


m ! 


.  : 


m 


w    f 


68 


]^CART]£. 


Iiappy  propensity  finally  carried,  that  I  relinquished  all 
other  society,  in  order  to  indulge  more  unrestrainedly 
in  my  favourite  passion.  My  days  were  now  consumed 
at  Frascati's  and  the  Palais-Royal,  while  my  nights 
were  devoted  to  Astelli,  Le  Pain,  MagnoUe,  and  several 
other  lady-proprietors,  equally  celebrated  for  the  splen- 
dour of  their  establishments,  and  the  istyle  and  beauty 
of  the  females  by  whom  they  were  frequented. 

"  But  to  be  brief — such  a  state  of  things  could  not 
long  exist.  My  ready  funds  were  now  exhausted,  and 
a  large  sum  which  I  had  received  in  advance  from  my 
banker,  was  also  swallowed  up  at  the  gaming-table. — 
Those  women,  to  whom  I  had  often  lent  a  few  Napo- 
leons, when  fortune,  the  better  to  deceive,  did  occasion- 
ally deign  to  smile  on  me,  were  not  long  in  discovering 
that  my  finances  were  fast  approaching  to  an  ebb  ;  and 
their  love-beaming  eyes  no  longer  met  mine  with  ten- 
derness of  expression,  but  were  turned  towards  some 
more  happy  fellow,  who  had  not  yet  been  completely 
ruined.  Nor  was  this  all.  The  lynx-eyed  creditors, 
who  seem  no  less  gifted  here  than  their  fellows  across 
the  channel,  with  an  intuitive  perception  of  the  state  of 
a  debtor's  finances,  were  not  backward  in  their  appli- 
cations ;  and  scarcely  had  I  got  rid  of  my  last  Napo- 
leon, when  I  found  that  urgent  demands  for  money  were 
pouring  in  from  every  quarter.  Every  one  had  a  little 
i)ill  to  make  up,  un  petit  paiement  a  faire,  and  they 
were  not  long  in  being  informed  that  I  had  not  a  sou  to 
aid  in  the  discharge  of  tiieir  bills.  They  then  vowed  to 
arrest  me  ;  nor  did  they  vow  in  vain,  for  in  a  very  short 
time  I  found  myself  immured  within  the  walls  of  a  coun- 
try prison,  where  I  was  allowed  full  leisure  to  ruminate 
on  my  follies,  and  to  form  better  resolutions  for  the 
future.  "'■        .. 

*'  During  nearly  twelve  months  I  continued  in  this 
dreadful  state  of  seclusion,  deprived  of  all  intercourse 
with  my  friends,  who,  by  a  rule  of  the  prison,  were  de- 
barred from  entering  my  chamber  ;  and  as  I  was  unwil- 
ling to  associate  with  any  of  the  inmates  of  my  new 


■**,•■ 


l^CART]^. 


'60 


habitation,  I  had  recourse  to  study  to  while  away  my 
time.  The  result  of  this  state  of  isolation  \m»,  how- 
ever, been  highly  beneficial  to  me,  since  th&  serious 
impressions  to  which  it  has  given  rise,  have  been  pro- 
ductive of  a  firm  resolution  never  on  any  accpunt  to 
subject  myself  to  similar  humiliations  and  inconveniences 
by  indulging  again  in  play. 

"  It  was  towards  the  close  of  my  confinement  in  thiM 
place,  that  a  guichetier  informed  me  one  morning  thut 
an  officer  of  rank,  who  had  formerly  distinguished  liim- 
self  under  Napoleon,  was  about  to  be  conducted  to  the 
prison  on  a  charge  of  robbery  ;  and  that  as  no  other 
accommodation  could  be  procured,  he  was  to  mhare  my 
room.  In  the  course  of  the  evening,  the  prisoner  ar- 
rived— ^but  judge  my  distress  and  astonishment,  when 
in  that  officer  I  discovered  the  individual  who  had  saved 
my  life  at  Waterloo.  Too  much  absorbed  in  his  own 
painful  feelings,  he  did  not  notice  me  on  his  entrance, 
and,  notwithstanding  an  involuntary  exclamation  wrung 
from  my  lips  by  the  surprise  of  the  moment,  he  did  not 
recognize  me  until  I  had  recalled  the  circumstance  to 
his  recollection.  What  a  distressing  situation  for  us 
both !  Long  and  anxiously  had  I  sought  this  gallant 
preserver  of  my  life,  burning  to  testify  my  gratitude,  to 
tender  my  friendship,  and  to  receive  his  in  return  :— 
now  he  stood  before  me  when  I  least  expected  to  see 
him,  in  the  character  of  a  felon.  Was  it  possible,  then, 
that  the  man  who,  covered  with  scars  and  decorations, 
fought  so  gloriously  on  that  memorable  day,  linllowing 
valour  with  mercy,  should  have  disgraced  his  laurels, 
and  the  rank  he  bore,  by  the  commission  of  an  act  so 
base  ?  Justice  and  humanity  forbade  the  supposition  ; 
and  the  generous  being  to  whom  I  was  indebted  for  ex- 
istence, stood  wholly  exculpated  in  my  eyes,  of  even  ft 
thought  of  a  dishonourable  tendency. 

"  Colonel  H appeared  to  be  about  five  and  fifty 

years  of  age.  His  person  was  of  the  middle  size,  and 
exceedingly  robust.  His  limbs  were  muscular,  and  pos- 
sessed that  iron  inflexibility  peculiar  to  men  who  have 


'%■ 


J 


'V'trirf'^- 


-."■'tl'v-fl  ■•'■.■*•''■ 


::r-iJyy 


■:.^V; 


70 


£CARt]S. 


been  nursed  in  hardihood,  and  inured  to  everv  species 
of  privation ;  t  hile,  through  the  half  cloied  folds  of  hit* 
linen,  a  chest,  literally  covered  with  hair,  and  common 
to  the  inhabitants  of  southern  France,  proclaimed  him  to 
be  of  ome  of  these  provinces.     His  thick,  dark  locks,  in 
which  the  gray  had  begun  to  make  itself  distinguishable, 
and  bushy  eyebrows,  gave  an  air  almost  of  ferocity  to 
his  countenance,  by  no  means  softened  by  the  expres- 
sion of  his  eyes,  which  Were  gray  and  piercing  ;  while  a 
large  scar  from  a  sabre  wound,  by  which  the  upper  part 
of  one  of  his  cheeks  had  been  indented,  lent  additional 
harshness  to  his  warlike  visage.    The  frequent  play  of  his 
features,  indicated  the  existence  of  powerful  passions, 
and  that  high  tone  of  character  peculiar  to  one  accus- 
tomed to  command.     His  action  and  language  were 
vehement ;  and  when  feelings  of  a  more  violent  nature 
were  excited,  his  words  were  literally  heaved  from  the 
bottom  of  his  powerful  chest.     He  had  served  under 
Napoleon  almost  from  the  commencement  of  his  military 
career,  and  had  been  engaged,  independently  of  smaller 
affairs,  in  fifty  important  battles.     Upwards  of  twenty 
wounds  had  disfigured  his  body  in  various  ports,  and 
several  decorations  pending  from  his  breast,  had  been 
the  reward  of  his  bravery  and  good  conduct  in  the  field. 
"And  yet  this  was  the  individual  agninst  whom  the 
ignominious  charge  of  an  attempt  at  robbery  had  been 
preferred,  and  who  now  waited,  with  painful  impatience, 
the  convocation  of  that  tribunal  betore  which  the  me- 
rits or  demerits  of  that  accusation  were  to  b©  publicly 
discussed.     Whenever  the  unhappy  colonel  reverted  to 
this  subject,  during  the  short  period  tiiat  we  continued 
together  previous  to  his  trial,  his  wonted  firmness  of 
character  appeared  to  forsake  him,  and  tears  of  bit- 
terness  often  chased  each  other  down    his  furrowed 
rheeks — not  tears  of  regret  for  a  crime  which  he  felt 
himself  humbled  to  be  compelled  to  disavow  even  to 
ipe,  and  of  which  I  most  religiously  believe  him  to  have 
been  innocent ;  but  tears  of  despair  that  such  a  itigma 
should  be  attached  to  his  character,   nHter  so  long  a 


* 


.f>»K^'0 


^CARTI^. 


71 


term  of  years  spent  in  the  service  of  a  country  for 
which  he  had  spilt  his  best  blood,  sustainijigw-a  reputa- 
tion for  courage  and  correct  conduct,  which  the  breath 
of  slander  had  not  yet  dared  to  sully.      «> 

'*  He  declared  himself  to  be  the  victim  of  that  spirit 
of  persecution  which  had  actuated  the  Bourbons  since 
the  restoration,  in  regard  to  iill  the  faithful  adherents 
of  the  Emperor,  and  solemnly  protested  that  his  only 
crime  in  their  estimation  was  his  unswerving  attachment 
to  his  late  master — an  attachment  which  had  frequently 
led  him  into  the  expression  of  sentiments  incompatible 
with  his  own  interests ;  but  nevertheless  not  of  a 
character  to  call  down  such  inhuman  persecution  on 
his  head.  The  Procureur  du  Roi,  he  was  well  aware, 
would  leave  no  means  untried,  no  bribery  unattempted, 
to  accomplish  his  disgrace ;  yet,  relying  on  his  inno- 
cence, he  scarcely  doubted  of  an  honourable  acquittal, 
although  his  horror  of  appearing  before  a  public  tribu- 
nal to  meet  a  charge  of  this  description  was  profound 
beyond  expression. 

"  At  length  arrived  that  important  day  which  was  to 
restore,  to  his  original  rank  in  society,  the  being  to 
whom  I  was  indebted  for  life,  with  a  reputation  unsullied 
by  the  cruel  ordeal  he  was  doomed  to  undergo,  or  to 
m'ive  his  name  and  days  to  infamy  and  suffering  for  ever. 
At  an  early  hour  the  colonel  was  prepared  for  the  sum- 
mons, which  he  momentarily  expected.  His  features, 
now  composed,  but  melancholy,  evidently  attested  the 
recent  action  of  deep  mortification  and  wounded  pride  on 
liis  mind.  He  spoke  but  little,  and  seemed  to  be  wholly 
occupied  with  his  situation ;  but  when  the  guichetier 
entered  to  inform  him  that  he  was  sent  for,  he  suffered 
!i  tear  to  escape,  as  he  grasped  my  extended  hand  with 
rarnestness  and  in  silence. 

"  The  interval  of  suspense  was  to  me  painful  beyond 
endurance  ;  nor  was  it  until  a  late  hour  in  the  evening 
tJiat  I  was  made  acquainted  with  the  result  of  the  pro- 
ceedings. Soon  after  the  prisoner  had  entered  the 
court,  the  act  of  accusation  was  read  by  the  Procureur 


\\ 


II 


.:i    \ 


72 


iSCART^. 


du  Roi.     It  charged  Colonel  H with  having,  on  a 

certain  nif  ht,  been  discovered  in  the  act  of  stealing  a 
basket  containing  plate,  belonging  to  the  proprietor  of 

the  hotel  where  he  lodged,  in  the  town  of .     It 

further  stated,  that  on  examination  this  basket  proved  to 
have  been  filled  with  straw,  in  order  to  prevent  the 
several  articles  from  clashing  together,  and  thereby 
leading  to  detection  ;  and  that  the  prisoner,  when  by 
accident  met  on  the  staircase,  while  in  the  act  of  carry- 
ing away  the  plate,  had  on  a  pair  of  cloth  shoes,  the  bet- 
ter to  effect  his  object.  To  this  charge,  fully  detailed 
in  its  several  counts,  the  colonel  pleaded  not  guilty, 
when  the  Procureur  du  Roi  called  several  witnesses,  all 
of  whom  were  individuals  connected  with  the  hotel,  who 
swore  positively  to  the  facts,  and  the  evidence  for  the 
prosecution  here  closed. 

"  The  prisoner  having  been  called  upon  for  his  de- 
fence, had  no  witness  to  produce,  but  solemnly  asserted 
his  innocence  of  the  charge  alleged,  which  he  decla- 
red to  be  the  fruit  of  a  conspiracy  against  his  honour 
and  his  life.  He  admitted  that  he  had  slept  at  the  ho- 
tel on  the  night  in  question  ;  but  denied  having  qwtted 
his  apartment  after  retiring  to  rest.  In  a  speech  of 
much  feeling  and  eloquence,  he  appealed  to  the  court 
to  decide  whether  it  was  likely  that  an  officer  who  had 
served  nearly  thirty  years  with  credit  and  fidelity,  both 
in  the  armies  of  the  Republic  and  in  those  of  Napoleon, 
could  really  be  guilty  of  the  crime  with  which  he  stood 
charged.  Neither  were  his  means  so  limited  as  to  in- 
duce the  supposition  that  he  had  been  driven  by  distress 
to  the  commission  of  an  offence  so  heinous  in  its  nature, 
he  being  then  in  the  receipt  of  three  thousand  francs  a 
year  for  his  services  and  decorations.  He  concluded 
by  calling  on  several  individuals  of  high  distinction  to 
attest  the  public  services  he  had  performed,  and  the  pri- 
\  ate  estimation  he  had  enjoyed,  until  the  moment  when 
this  infamous  accusation  had  been  preferred;  and  ex- 
pressing his  reliance  on  the  fair  and  impartial  judg- 
ment of  the  court,  submitted  himself  to  its  decision. 


l^CARTlfi. 


73 


<♦  What  must  have  been  his  horror  and  surprise,  when 
the  tribunal,  pronouncing  its  sentence  with  a  haste  but 
too  painAilly  demonstrative  of  its  willingness  and  deter- 
mination to  condemn,  decreed  that  the  charge  of  an  at- 
tempt at  robbery  having  been  fully  proved  against  the 

prisoner,  Colonel  H ,  a  member  of  the  Legion  of 

Honour,  he  should  be  publicly  degraded  from  his  rank, 
devested  of  his  orders,  and  exposed  in  the  pillory  on  the 
following  Monday  in  the  market-place  ;  and  that,  fur- 
ther, he  should  be  condemned  to  the  hulks  for  the  term 
of  five  years. 

**  You  will  readily  understand  with  what  feelings  of 
psiin  and  disappointment  I  received  the  account  of  this 
cruel  sentence  from  the  concierge  of  the  prison.  Asforthe 
unhappy  colonel,  I  never  again  beheld  him.  On  his  re- 
moval from  the  tribunal,  he  was  conducted  to  another 
prison  in  the  town,  appropriated  to  the  reception  of  con- 
demned persons.  Each  day,  until  that  appointed  for 
his  exposure  in  the  pillory,  I  expected  to  receive  an 
account  of  his  death  by  his  own  hand,  but  in  this  I  was 
disappointed.  He  was  exhibited  for  many  hours  in  the 
t'O/rcaHf  with  his  imputed  crime  detailed  in  large  charac- 
ters, and  affixed  to  a  beam  of  the  scaffolding  immediately 
over  his  head,  and  a  few  days  afterwards,  a  chain  of 
convicts  having  arrived  on  their  route  to  Toulon,  he  was 
attached  to  the  gang.  Thus  manacled  and  habited  as 
u  felon,  the  man  who  had  headed  a  successful  clmrge 
ugainst  the  English  troops  at  Waterloo,  might  be  seen 
confounded  with  the  very  refuse  of  the  human  race,  his 
once  haughty  eye  shunning  the  eager  gaze  of  the  multi- 
tude, and  his  head  bent  over  his  chest  in  sorrow  and  in 
Hhame. 

"  This  occurrence  took  place  about  three  weeks  prior 
to  my  liberation,  and  during  the  whole  of  that  interval, 
the  image  of  this  truly  unfortunate  man  was  incessantly 
before  my  eyes.  There  was  something  so  cruelly  ro- 
mantic in  the  circumstances  under  which,  after  so  much 
fruitless  solicitude  on  my  part,  we  had  at  length  niet, 
that  I  could  scarcely  persuade  myself  I  was  not  under 

VOL.  I.  7 


■^■v*:-- 


74 


£CART^. 


the  influence  of  a  dream ;  but  when  I  glanced  at  the  op- 
posite side  of  the  apartment,  which  he  had  occupied, 
and  beheld  the  designs  he  was  wont  to  trace  on  the 
walls,  in  his  moments  of  abstraction  from  that  state  of 
intense  suflering  in  which  he  more  usually  indulged,  the 
whole  train  of  recent  occurrences  rose  in  succession  be- 
fore me,  dispelling  the  momentary  delusion,  and  flash- 
ing painful  conviction  on  my  mind. 

'*  My  isolated  position  had,  in  consequence  of  this 
event,  been  rendered  almost  insufl'erable,  when  the  funds 
for  which  I  had  been  so  loug  compelled  to  wait,  and 
without  which  my  release  could  not  possibly  be  effected, 
arrived  from  England.  Once  more,  therefore,  but  thin, 
pale,  and  languid,  from  want  of  air  and  exercise,  was  i 
restored  to  freedom.  During  the  twelve  months  that  I 
continued  to  inhabit  these  gloomy  walls,  such  was  my 
aversion  to  coming  in  contact  with  my  follow  prisoners, 
that  I  never  once  descended  into  the  court  of  the  prison ; 
and  had  I  been  without  the  means  of  finally  discharging 
the  claims  of  my  creditors,!  might  have  ended  my  days 
within  its  limits;  for,  nlthough  the  subjects  of  the  coun- 
try cannot  be  detained  for  a  period  exceeding  five  years, 
that  privilege  is  not  extended  to  the  foreigner,  who  may 
be  immured  for  life,  in  the  event  of  his  not  paying  every 
franc  of  the  original  debt  and  expenses,  should  the  ca- 
price of  the  creditor  so  determine  it. 

"  I  thank  heaven,  however,"  concluded  Dormer, 
"  that  this  has  not  been  my  case.  Two  months  have 
now  elapsed  since  my  liberation,  and  I  have  had,  even 
in  that  short  interval,  sufiicient  reason  to  know  that  the 
horrid  vice  of  gaming  has  been  effectually  rooted  out 
from  my  breast  by  the  severe  probation  I  have  under- 
gone. Need  I  add,  my  dear  Clifford,  that  the  satisfac- 
tion arising  from  that  conviction  is  doubly  increased  this 
day  by  meeting  with  the  friend  and  companion  of  my 
earlier  and  less  eventful  years — a  friend  to  whom  my  ex- 
perience may  prove  useful,  and  whom  it  shall  be  my 
care  to  guard  against  those  dangers  by  which  the  young 


«--4>f--- 


„-r-ss,.  ,  ,/....«<lS»f#'^»•'^.»i**v•su:rir-:- 


■.V- 


k 


■^■^ 


fCART^. 


76 


and  the  generous  are  almost  imperceptibly  assailed  in 
iliis  voluptuous  metropolis." 


CHAPTER  Vl 


The  long  and  interesting  narrative  of  Dormer  was 
scarcely  ended,  when  the  loud  cracking  of  a  postilion's 
whip  drawing  the  attention  of  his  friend  to  the  window 
of  the  apartment  which  overlooked  the  Rue  St.  Ho- 
nore,  he  beheld  his  uncle's  carriage  in  the  act  of  enter- 
ing into  the  court  of  the  hotel.  Apologizing  hastily,  he 
left  the  room,  and  was  at  the  door  of  the  vehicle  in  suffi- 
cient time  to  assist  Miss  Stanley  in  alighting;  who,  follow-* 
ed  by  her  father,  was  shown  to  the  apartment  he  had  just 
quitted.  Sir  Edward,  who  had  suffered  considerably 
from  his  old  complaint  during  the  journey,  was  the  next 
object  of  his  attention,  and  several  minutes  were  passed 
ere  they  joined  their  friends  within. 

"  Dear  Mr.  Dormer,"  "  my  dear  Miss  Stanley,"  ut- 
tered in  the  most  familiar  tones  of  voice,  were  the  first 
sounds  which  fell  upon  the  startled  ear  of  Delmaine,  as, 
all  astonishment,  he  beheld,  on  entering,  the  hand  of 
Helen  clasped  in  that  of  his  friend.  A  pang  of  jealousy 
shot  across  his  bosom,  and,  unable  to  account  for  the 
existence  of  such  freedom  between  those  whom  he  had 
previously  deemed  absolute  strangers  to  each  other,  his 
eyes  were  turned  inquiringly  from  one  to  another,  while 
the  half-curved  lip  and  increasing  paleness  of  his  cheek, 
proclaimed  the  emotion  he  struggled  to  conceal. 

Dormer  was  too  quick-sighted,  and  too  com^ersant 
with  the  passions,  not  to  understand  at  once  the  feelings 
of  his  friend,  and  he  hastened  to  undeceive  him.  "  My 
dear  Clifford,"  he  at  length  exclaimed,  "  I  have  been 
doubly  fortunate  to-day — in  Colonel  and  Miss  Stanley 


-'V 


\'>-A<"«^' 


r-'-i-^+r  -•«  ^''^-^-Hffc 


X,>WI"-^ 


J(^-.^-.. 


I 


.0, 


76 


£cart£. 


you  behold  the  Indian  friends  I  named  to  vou  in  the 
course  of  my  narrative.  Colonel,"  he  added,  address- 
ing his  old  commanding  officer,  "  Delmaine  and  myself 
have  met  to-day  for  the  first  time  since  our  separation  in 
boyhood;  and  I  have  been  availing  myself  of  the  privi- 
lege of  the  soldier-traveller,  by  giving  him  a  full,  true, 
and  particular  account  of  all  the  wonders  I  have  seen, 
the  trials  I  have  undergone,  and  the  few  friends  whose 
kindness  and  attention  liave  compensated  for — " 

"  I  hope,"  interrupted  the  Colonel,  anxious  to  divert 
him  from  a  subject  which  bore  evident  reference  to  him- 
self, and  in  a  tone  half  playful,  half  in  earnest,  "  that 
you  have  not  forgotten  an  enumeration  of  your  follies— 
especially  that  of  leaving  India  at  a  moment  when  a  ma- 
jority without  purchase  was  within  your  reach." 

"  Time  and  reflection  have  made  me  wiser,"  mourn- 
fully returned  Dormer ;  "  but.  Colonel,  you  know  I 
stood  only  third  on  the  list  of  captains,  therefore,  how 
could  this  possibly  be?" 

"  True,"  rejoined  the  Colonel ;  "  but  Lovell  and 
Granby,  your  seniors,  perished  a  few  days  afler  your 
departure ;  and  Freeling's  death,  which  succeeded  to 
theirs,  left  the  majority  vacant  in  about  a  fortnight." 

"  Which  Beauclerc,  the  next  senior  captain  after  me, 
got  of  course,"  replied  Dormer ;  "  but,  my  dear  sir, 
you  know  that  I  could  not  resist  the  tide  of  circum- 
stances— my  debts — my  difficulties — " 

"  Both  might  have  been  satisfactorily  arranged,  had 
your  pride  not  intervened,"  returned  the  colonel,  se- 
riously ;  ''  that  indomitable  pride^which  would  not  stoop 
to  receive  a  mark  of  friendship  from  one  deeply  interest- 
ed in  your  welfare." 

"  Nay,  nay.  Colonel,"  exclaimed  Dormer,  in  ac- 
cents which  proclaimed  his  distress  at  such  a  supposition, 
"  it  was  not  pride ;  it  was — I  scarcely  know  myself 
what  it  was ;  but  it  was  not  pride.  Deeply,  unceasing- 
ly, have  I  cherished  the  recollection  of  your  generous 
offer ;  neither  could  I  have  hesitated  to  receive  an  obli» 


rep- 


•*-'':;■*#•... 


iCAKTt. 


77 


gation  at  'your  hand"  i  but  the  conduct  of  my  brother 
officers — " 

"  Was  not  exactly  what  it  should  have  been,"  inter- 
rupted the  other ;  "  but  forgive  me,  Dormer — I  would 
not  willingly  recall  the  painful  recollections  of  that  period 
to  your  mind ;  yet  I  confess  I  have  not  patience  to  think 
of  the  advantages  you  have  so  needlessly  thrown  away ; 
however,  let  us  dwell  no  longer  on  that  which  cannot 
now  be  remedied." 

"  Clifford,  do  you  choose  to  introduce  me  to  youir 
friend  ?"  half  reproachfully  exclaimed  Sir  Edward,  who, 
seated  in  an  enormous  fauteuil,  near  the  fire-place,  had 
been  a  silent  listener  to  the  conversation,  occasionally 
passing  his  right  hand  down  his  legs  to  soothe  the  vio- 
lence of  his  gout. 

"  Pardon  my  inattention,"  hastily  returned  our  hero, 
who,  forgetting  both  his  friend,  his  uncle,  and  the  colonel, 
had  stood  watching  the  countenance  of  Helen  during 
this  short  conference,  seeking  in  vain  to  discover  if  it  bore 
any  indication  of  more  than  common  interest  in  the  for- 
mer. •*  Dormer,  allow  me  to  present  you  to  my  kind 
uncle  and  benefactor.  Sir  Edward  Delmaine." 

"  Humph !"  muttered  the  good  old  baronet,  "  your 
friend  and  uncle,  certainly ;  but  as  for  your  benefactor, 
I  hate  the  term ;  but  no  matter — Mr.  Dormer,  I  am 
very  glad  to  see  you.  Though  we  have  never  met,  wc 
are  not  wholly  strangers  to  each  other;  for,"  nodding 
significantly  in  the  direction  of  his  nephew,  "  I  have 
lieard  of  you  before." 

Dormer  bowed,  and  Sir  Edward  proceeded  to  in- 
quire what  arrangements  had  been  made  in  regard  to 
their  future  residence  while  in  Paris. 

Clifford  communicated  the  success  of  his  morning's 
ramble,  and  pcoposed  conducting  the  colonel  and  Miss 
Stanley  to  the  Hotel  Mirabeau,  to  examine  the  apart- 
ments he  had  engaged. 

To  this  they  both  gladly  assented ;  and  after  a  slight 

repast  had  been  served  up,  they  proceeded,  still  in  their 

7# 


•78 


fiCARTlS. 


travelling  dresses,  to  the  Rue  de  la  Paix,  Dormer  re- 
maining behind,  as  a  companion  to  Sir  Edward. 

The  gayly-dressed,  young,  and  somewhat  loquacious 
proprietaire  soon  made  her  appearance ;  and,  conduct- 
ing the  party  to  the  apartment  au  premier y  consisting  of 
a  large  suite  of  rooms,  began  to  expatiate  on  the  size 
and  convenience  of  the  logementj  and  the  richness  and 
elegance  of  the  furniture.  The  colonel  appeared  to  be 
perfectly  satisfied,  and  his  daughter  seemed  by  no 
means  disposed  to  cavil  at  the  choice  made  by  him  who 
had  so  readily  undertaken  the  commission. 

Leaving  the  Hotel  Mirabeau,  the  party  again  entered 
the  Rue  de  la  Paix,  on  their  return  to  Meurice's.  At  a 
jeweller's  shop,  near  "le  Rue  Neuve  des  Petits  Champs, 
the  colonel  stopped  for  the  purpose  of  making  a  purchase, 
leaving  his  daughter  and  Delmaine  to  examine  some 
curious  trinkets  which  lay  exposed  in  a  window. 

Nearly  at  the  same  moment,  two  young  men  of  highly 
fashionable  appearance,  and  apparently  lounging  from 
the  garden  of  the  Tuileries,  stopped  at  another  window 
of  the  shop  ;  and  scarcely  affecting  to  conceal  their  real 
purpose,  by  even  an  appearance  of  attention  to  the 
baubles  before  them,  proceeded  to  comment  loudly  on 
the  dress  of  Miss  Stanley,  who,  it  has  already  been  re- 
marked, had  not  thrown  off  her  travelling  equipments. 

"  Pardieu!  Iffautavouer,  milord,  quevos  Anglaises 
ne  hrillent  pas  trop  en  fait  de  toilette.  EUe  n'esf  pas 
mal,  cependant.  Dieu,  quel  teint ! — quels  yeux  ;  mais, 
amsij  quel  chapeau  infame ! — quelle  chaussure  detesta- 
ble P^  And  raising  his  glass  to  his  eye,  he  proceeded  to 
•A  more  critical  examination  of  the  person  of  Helen,  with 
an  air  of  ease  and  eflrontery  which  could  not  be  ex- 
ceeded. 

' '  Ce  sont  apparemment  de  nouveaux  arxivcs,  mon  clier^ ' 
drawled  forth  his  companion,  in  an  accent  which  pro- 
claimed him  English,  though  his  dress  was  fashioned 
after  tiie  style  of  a  Parisian  exquisite. 

"  Parole  d^homieiir"  resumed  the  first  speaker,  still 
continuing  his  insolent  examination  ;  "  elle  estvraiment 
joUe  ;  mais  diable  !  pourqiioi  cache-t-elle  sa  figure  ? — 


re- 


tCAKTt. 


JEJA,  voyonf  son  cavalier  !  Cela  went  de  la  ciVe,  iCest , 
pas  9"  ,^^ 

The  blood  of  Clifibrd,  which  had  been  fast  mounti(i% 
since  the  commencement  of  this  short  dialogue,  now 
shot  like  lightning  through  his  veins,  and  nothing  but 
the  presence  of  Miss  Stanley  prevented  his  chastising 
the  insolence  of  the  native  on  the  spot.  A  quick  and 
irrepressible  tremor  passing  through  his  frame,  betrayed 
the  excited  state  of  his  feelings  to  his  companion,  who, 
trembling  with  apprehension,  pressed  the  arm  on  which 
she  leaned  with  earnestness,  and  turned  her  speaking 
eyes  on  his,  with  an  expression  of  intense  supplication. 

Unable  to  resist  the  appeal,  Clifford  replied  with  a 
look  which  quieted  the  fears  of  his  charge  ;  but  turning 
the  instant  afterwards  in  the  direction  of  the  intruders, 
his  haughty  glance  was  met  by  one  as  haughty  and 
unshrinking  as  his  own.  His  eye  had  fastened  on  that 
of  the  first  speaker,  who  encountered  his  threatening 
gaze  with  a  mixed  expression  of  ferocity  and  scorn. — 
Their  significant  looks  were  unheeded  by  Miss  Stanley, 
w  ho  was  in  the  act  of  moving  towards  the  shop,  when 
the  colonel  joined  them.  They  then  pursued  their 
course  to  Meurice's. 

As  they  passed  the  spot,  where  the  insolent  loungers 
still  continued  in  the  same  careless  attitude,  Delmaine 
and  the  Frenchman  again  exchanged  glances  of  hostile 
and  significant  import.  There  was  an  expression  of 
malignant  exultation  in  the  eye  of  the  latter,  which  did 
not  escape  the  observation  of  Helen.  Secretly  rejoicing 
at  the  forbearance  manifested  by  our  hero,  whose  re- 
sponsive looks  of  defiance  had  passed  unnoticed,  she 
leached  the  hotel,  under  the  firm  impres.sion  that  the 
affair  was  terminated,  and  that  the  better  understanding 
of  Delmaine  had  triumphed  over  the  first  natural  ebulli- 
tion of  passion. 

"  What  say  you.  Dormer,  to  a  walk  as  far  as  Galig- 
iinni's — I  rather  expect  to  find  letters  ?"  observed 
(.'lifford,  on  entering  the  apartment,  where  his  friend 
had  been  engaged  in  earnest  conversation  with  Sir  Ed- 


,   i 


!  K\ 


\\'\ 


^  m 


I  -: 
i 


:  I 


tcAwrt. 


1-!. 


The  queition  was  accompanied  by  an  expressive  look, 
..noticed only  by  Dormer,  which  gave  him  to  understand 
that  something  more  than  a  mere  visit  to  Galignani's 
for  letters  was  implied.  The  young  men  took  up  their 
hats,  and  left  the  apartment.  On  reaching  the  court- 
yard, Delmaine  explained  the  nature  of  the  occurrence 
which  had  Just  taken  place,  when,  instead  of  proceeding 
towards  the  library,  they  turned  into  the  Rue  de  la  Paix, 
where  our  hero  sought  in  vain  for  those  he  had  so  recent- 
ly left  standing  near  the  jeweller's,  and  who,  he  felt  sa- 
tisfied, must  have  been  aware  of  his  intention  to  return. 

"  They  are  gone  !*'  he  exclaimed,  with  bitter  impa- 
tience ;  "let  Ui  move  on  quickly — ^we  may  possibly 
find  them  on  the  Boulevard." 

The  friends  soon  found  themselves  under  the  tall 
trees  which  form  the  avenue,  and  pursued  their  course 
until  they  came  nearly  opposite  to  Tortoni's,  where 
Dormer  called  the  attention  of  his  companion,  who  had 
kept  his  rivetted  before  him,  to  two  individuals  on  the 
Boulevard  des  Italiens.  * 

**  There,"  he  exclaimed,  "  is  the  self-expatriated  and 
coxcombical  Lord  Hervey,  and  with  him  the  Comte  dv« 
Hillier,  one  of  the  fiercest  desperadoes  and  most  suc- 
cessful duellists  in  all  Paris  :  he  has  already  killed  five 
men " 

"  And  may  now  kill  a  sixth,"  interrupted  Delmaine, 
urging  his  friend  to  the  opposite  Boulevard,  and  direct- 
ing his  steps  towards  the  persons  pointed  out  by  Dor- 
mer ;  *♦  these  are  the  very  men  I  am  in  quest  of." 

They  now  rapidly  approached,  when  our  hero,  having 
chosen  the  side  nearest  the  comte,  placed  one  hand  on 
his  hip,  and  extending  iiis  elbow,  with  every  muscle  of 
the  arm  distended  to  the  utmost,  he  brushed  by  his 
enemy  with  a  violence,  rendered  more  irresistible,  be- 
cause it  was  totally  unexpected.  The  swiftness  of  mo- 
tion on  one  side,  added  to  the  indolence  of  attitude 
the  other,  completely  destroyed  the  equilibrium  of  De 
Millier,  who  was  urged  several  paces  in  advance  of  his 


K'Jk'"'  ,.ij*!ii_'i 


tCAJLTt, 


81 


companion,  and  only  with  difficulty  saved  himself  from 
falling. 

Delmaine,  who  had  previously  relinquished  the  arm 
of  his  friend,  continued  his  course  loungingly  a  few  yards 
in  advance,  and  then,  suddenly  turning  round,  fastened 
his  eyes  on  the  countenance  of  the  ferocious  duellist, 
with  an  expression  of  profound  contempt.  De  Hillier, 
in  whose  bosom  shame,  rage,  mortification,  and  hatred, 
swelled  with  ungovernable  fury,  could  with  difficulty 
articulate  or  express  his  thirst  for  vengeance.  No  ex- 
planation was  demanded,  for  in  our  hero  they  recognised 
the  stranger  between  whom  and  the  comte  the  most 
hostile  glances  had  so  recently  been  exchanged.  The 
latter  was  aware  of  the  provocation  he  had  given,  and 
he  already  regarded  his  opponent  as  a  victim  devoted 
to  his  wrath. 

<'  Your  cards,  gentlemen,"  demanded  Lord  Hervey, 
taking  one  at  the  same  time  from  his  own  richly-embos- 
sed case  ;  "  De  Hillier,  votre  carte,  mon  chery 

Such  was  the  agitation  of  the  Frenchman,  that  it  was 
some  time  before  he  could  succeed  in  producing  one  of 
tliose  cards  whose  appearance  under  similar  circumstan- 
ces had  so  often  proved   fatal  to  those  by  whom  they 
were  received. 

"  La  void  /"  he  at  length  exclaimed,  in  a  (ieep  voice, 
rendered  hoarse  by  the  various  passions  which  assailed 
him  :  "  Puisse-t-elle  servir  aux  aini^  de  Monsieur  pour 
un  souvenir  eternel  du  Comte  de  Hillier.  Deinain, 
milord,''''  he  continued, — "  demain,  a  sept  heures,  au 
Bais  de  Boidogne — pas  un  instant  plus  tard  /" 

"  Je  le  veux  Men,''''  returned  his  friend,  "  qiunquil  soit 
un  pen  mailn  pour  moi,  et  que  faime  passablement  Tnon 
lit.  Gentlemen,"  he  added  in  English,  "  will  seven 
o'clock  to-mo/row  be  quite  convenient  to  you  ?" 

The  eyes  of  Delmaine  indicated  as  little  desire  to  de- 
fer the  termination  of  their  dispute  beyond  the  present 
hour,  as  those  of  De  Hillier  himself;  but  Dormer  re- 
plied to  the  question  in  the  affirmative. 

*'  And  the  weapons  ?"  he  pursued, 


82 


tCAKTi. 


"  Pistols,  of  course,"  rejoined  his  lordship  ;  "  is  this 
arrangement  perfectly  satisfactory  ?" 

"  Perfectly  so,"  returned  Dormer.  "  At  seven  then, 
my  lord,  we  shall  expect  you  at  the  entrance  of  Bois  de 
Boulogne." 

The  parties  now  separated.  Delmaine  and  Dormer 
retracing  their  steps  to  the  hotel,  while  De  Hillier 
and  his  friend  retired  into  the  Cafe  de  Paris  to  dine,  and 
discuss  at  leisure  their  plans  for  the  ensuing  rencontre. 

The  commencement  of  the  fracas  had  been  witnessed 
by  several  of  that  idle  group  of  young  fashionables  of 
all  nations,  who  throng  the  Boulevards  at  a  certain 
hour,  and  lounge  away  the  few  moments  preceding  din- 
ner near  Tortoni's  and  the  Cafe  de  Paris.  They  im- 
mediately hastened  to  the  spot,  with  an  eagerness  that 
evinced  their  surprise  at  so  much  daring  on  the  part  of 
the  stranger  ;r  and  at  the  moment  when  the  haughty  dis- 
putants exchanged  cards,  a  large  crowd,  among  whom 
were  several  elegantly  dressed  women,  had  collected 
around  them.  The  fame  of  De  Hillier  as  a  duellist, 
was  too  well  established  to  excite  a  doubt  as  to  the  re- 
sult. ;  and  the  fate  of  the  young  Englishman,  for  such 
they  soon  discovered  him  to  be,  was  already  anticipated. 
The  men  would  have  felt  disposed  to  admire  the  intre- 
pidity of  our  hero,  in  thus  venturing  to  provoke  one  so 
univ8[rsally  hated  and  feared,  for  his  ruffian  daring  and 
unequalled  skill ;  but  that  they  believed  him  to  be  igno- 
rant of  the  character  of  the  man  with  whom  he  had  now 
embroiled  himself  beyond  recall ;  and  more  than  one 
dark  and  eloquent  female  eye,  as  it  lingered  on  the  fair 
proportions  and  ingenuous  features  of  the  stranger,  be- 
trayed an  expression  of  mournful  interest,  sufficiently  in- 
dicative of  the  result  apprehended  from  a  rencontre  with 
De  Hillier. 

This  nobleman  was  now  in  his  twenty-sixth  year ; 
his  person  would  have  been  accounted  good,  had  not 
the  natural  elegance  of  his  figure  been  destroyed  by  an 
offensive  carelessness  of  carriage,  strikingly  expressive 
of  insolence  and  disdain.  His  features,  also,  were  regu- 


lar, a 
not  b( 
playe 
face, 
fiend- 
glassy 
and  f< 
Paris 
that 


'^"■r-yTj^-.-jrr 


^CARTlfi. 


80 


lar,  and  would  have  been  considered  handiomei  had  it 
not  been  for  the  contemptuous  cur)  which  not  msrely 
played  around  the  lip,  but  contracted  the  muiclei  of  hU 
face,  even  unto  distortion  of  the  countenancf ,  and  the 
fiend-like  expression  of  his  eyes,  which  were  dull  and 
glassy,  and  filled  with  malignant  cunning.  Hti  rank 
and  fortune  had  given  him  access  to  the  firit  fiociity  in 
Paris ;  but  such  was  the  brutal  ferocity  of  hii  nature, 
that  more  than  one  member  of  that  society  had  found 
reason  to  curse  the  hour  of  his  introduction,  in  lament- 
ing the  untimely  fall  of  some  dear  friend  or  relative  by 
tiis  ruthless  hand.  Urged  by  a  wanton  thirst  for  noto- 
riety, and  priding  himself  on  a  dexterity  in  the  use  of 
weapons,  which  none  of  the  young  men  around  him 
could  succeed  in  attaining,  he  often  deliberately  and 
without  provocation,  fastened  insults  on  the  inexperien- 
ced, which  led  to  results  almost  ever  fatal  in  their  cha- 
racter to  the  latter. 

At  the  period  now  alluded  to,  his  reputation  had  be- 
come notorious ;  and  although  the  houses  of  many  of  the 
more  respectable  families  in  Paris  were  closed  against 
him,  while  in  others  he  was  received  with  cold  and  stu- 
died politeness,  he  still  continued  to  keen  up  a  certain 
connexion.  Many  of  the  young  fashionabb.s  of  the  day 
yet  adhered  to  him ;  some  from  fear,  some  A'om  vanity, 
some  from  the  notoriety  attached  to  his  name,  and  some 
from  the  similarity  of  their  tastes  and  pursuitg  in  the 
haunts  of  dissipation  in  which  they  were  wet  to  meet. 
By  far  the  greater  number  of  these  hated  him ',  but  want- 
ing courage  to  avow  their  real  sentiments,  were  content 
to  wish  his  downfall  in  secret. 

Such  was  the  character  of  the  individual  with  whom 
our  hero  was,  on  the  following  morning,  to  play  the 
stake  of  existence;  and  no  little  anxiety  was  excited  in 
the  minds  of  many  of  the  Parisians.  The  difiereni 
loungers  on  the  Boulevard,  present  at  the  moment  of  tho 
quarrel,  had  communicated  the  intelligence  to  their 
friends,  who,  in  their  turn,  related  it  to  others,  and  thnl 
night  there  was  scarcely  a  family,  among  the  upper  eir- 


A 


•< 


i\ 


'* 


84 


ECART^. 


r  '/ 


I' 

i 


cles  of  the  metropolis,  in  which  it  was  not  known  that  a 
duel  was  to  be  fought,  on  the  following  morning,  be- 
tween a  handsome  young  Englishman  and  the  redoubt- 
able Comte  de  Hillier.  Various  were  the  opinioni  ex- 
pressed. Some  decided  that  the  Englishman  must  cer- 
tainly fall;  others  imagined,  that  as  his  countrymen 
were -generally  considered  to  be  excellent  marksmeu 
with  the  pistol,  De  Hillier  would  find  his  equal.  Borne 
few  sagaciously  remarked,  that  the  glance  of  the  comte' h 
eye  would  be  sufficient  to  intimidate  the  stranger  and 
disconcert  his  aim.  All,  however,  with  the  exception  of 
a  few  young  men,  whom  a  dread  of  De  Hillier  indurerl 
to  deliver  a  contrary  opinion,  expressed  their  fervent 
wishes  in  favoi'v  of  the  Liglishman. 

On  reaching  he  Rue  ih  la  Paix,  Dormer  quitted  the 
arm  of  his  friend],  i-i  u'dcr  to  call  on  a  gentleman  in  the 
Hotel  de  Douv  ?&,  "'.l.o  he  knew  to  be  in  possession  of, 
a  brace  of  excel  ^nt  p;st</<',  and  who  was  always  happy, 
on  such  occasions,  to  accommodate  friend  or  stranger,, 
both  with  weapons  and  advice ;  he  promised,  however, 
to  be  in  time  for  dinner,  to  which  he  had  been  previously 
invited  by  Sir  Edward. 

A  few  minutes  after  the  appointed  time  ha  made  his 
appearance  in  the  salon,  where  the  party  had  been  Home 
time  assembled,  awaiting  his  arrival.  There  was  an  air 
of  hurry  and  fatigue  about  his  person,  which  did  not 
escape  the  observation  of  Miss  Stanley ;  antl,  when  she 
subsequently  remarked  the  exchange  of  peculiar  glances 
of  intelligence  between  the  young  men,  a  faint  suspi- 
cion of  the  truth  flashed,  for  the  flist  time,  across  lu-r 
mind. 

With  a  view,  therefore,  to  ascertain  whether  any 
foundation  actually  existed  for  such  apprelienfion,  sIm' 
took  an  opportanity,  during  dinner,  to  inquirt?  if  the 
king's  funeral  was  to  take  place  on  the  followlii^r  day, 
at,  had  been  reported. 

To  this  question  Dormer,  who  had  been  more  Inmie- 
diately  addressed,  replied  in  the  affirmative,  adding, 
that  he  should  feel  much  pleasure  in  accomp<tnylng  them 


7 


lECARTjfi. 


85 


» 


to  a  friend's  lodgings,  where  he  had  already  secured  a 
position  from  which  the  whole  of  the  cortege  might  be 
viewed  to  advantage. 

The  countenance  of  Helen  brightened  as  she  acknow- 
ledged the  attention,  and,  encouraged  by  an  approving 
glance  from  the  colonel,  accepted  the  offer  of  Dormer. 
Some  reply  of  this  nature  was  what  she  anticipated  to 
her  question,  provided  no  engagement  of  the  hostile 
character  she  feared,  wps  in  being.  The  free  and  un- 
embarrassed manner  of  her  old  friend,  now  completely 
re-assu.'ed  her,  and  she  entered  into  conversation  with  a 
cheerfulness  and  spirit  that  delighted  our  hero,  and 
caused  him  to  lose  sight  of  every  other  more  serious  re- 
flection, in  the  contemplation  of  those  graces  of  mind 
and  person  which  the  exhilarated  tone  of  her  feelings 
now  so  happily  elicited.  With  him,  however,  she  was 
somewhat  reserved,  but  with  Dormer  she  used  all  the 
freedom  of  an  old  acquaintance. 

Delmaine  thought  he  could  have  listened  for  ever  to 
the  sallies  of  an  imagination  evidently  directed  by  sound 
understanding  and  good  sense;  and,  much  as  he  re- 
quired repose  to  fit  him  for  the  trial  in  which  he  was 
about  to  engage,  he  heard,  with  regret,  the  colonel  an- 
nounce the  necessity  for  separation,  after  the  fatigues  of 
their  journey.  Miss  Stanley  immediately  arose  and  re- 
tired, and  was  soon  followed  by  Sir  Edward  and  the 
colonel.  The  friends  now  found  themselves  alone,  and 
Dormer  proceeded  to  communicate  the  result  of  his  visit. 
The  pistols  had  been  promised,  and  would,  he  said,  bo 
brought  to  his  lodgings,  on  the  following  morning,  by 
the  owner,  who  prized  them  too  dearly  to  intrust  them 
into  the  hands  of  a  servant,  or  a  commissimiaire.  He 
prepared  Clifford  to  expect  an  original  in  this  person, 
as  far  as  related  to  the  subject  in  question ;  and,  having 
settled  that  they  should  meet  at  his  hotel  at  half  past 
five,  he  took  his  leave. 

After  having  completed  a  letter  intended  for  Sir  Ed- 
ward, ii,^  the  event  of  his  fall,  and  disposed  of  some 
other  affairs,  our  hero  was  not  long  in  consigning  hl^ 

VOL.  I.  8 


tc  ' 


'1  ir  I 


36 


ECARTE. 


wearied  senses  to  sleep.  Before  his  lieavy  eyes  were 
wholly  closed  in  forgetfulness,  his  last  tlioughts  had 
been  of  Helen,  and  the  delightful  though  not  unal- 
loyed sensation  of  pleasure  which  he  had  experienced 
at  the  moment  when,  supplicating  his  forbearance  with 
imploring  eyes,  she  suffered  her  arm  to  linger  on  his 
own.  Impressed  with  the  images  to  which  this  recol- 
lection had  given  birth,  his  imagination  prolonged  the 
charm  in  his  slumbers,  and  he  was  yet  enjoying  the  de- 
light consequent  on  the  tender  avowal  of  affection  from 
her  lips,  when  a  slight  tapping  at  the  door  of  his  apart- 
ment, suddenly  awakened  him  from  this  illusory  state  of 
happiness  to  impressions  of  a  less  equivocal,  and  more 
serious  nature. 

**  Monsieur^  cinque  Jteures  viennent  de  sonner,"  said  a 
voice  without,  in  a  low  rough  key. 

"  C^est  biefif  mon  ami — laissez  la  lumiere,"  replied 
Cliiford,  yawning,  and  rubbing  his  eyes,  and  but  indis- 
tinctly seeing  the  reflection  of  a  light  through  the  key- 
hole and  crevices  of  the  door,  which  was  immediately 
opposite  to  the  foot  of  his  bed. 

The  servant  who  had  been  commissioned,  the  pre- 
vious evening,  to  call  Iiim  at  five,  precisely,  placed  the 
light  near  the  door,  as  directed,  and  groped  his  way 
down  the  staircase  in  the  dark,  while  the  heavy  creaking 
of  the  banisters  beneath  the  sturdy  hands  which  clung 
to  them  with  iron  force  for  protection,  and  the  occa- 
sional slipping  of  an  unwieldy  foot,  falsely  placed,  sent 
their  echoes  throughout  the  death-like  silence  which 
reigned  in  every  other  part  of  the  hotel,  in  a  manner 
that  threatened  to  destroy  the  furtlicr  repose  of  its 
several  inmates. 

After  yawning  and  stretching  his  arms  a  few  minutes 
longer,  our  hero  at  length  contrived  to  collect  his  scat- 
tered thoughts,  w.'ien,  jumping  out  of  bed,  and  mutter- 
ing something  about  the  uncouthness  of  the  hour  ap- 
pointed for  the  rendezvous,  he  proceeded  to  secure  the 
lamp,  which  was  quite  indispensable,  the  day  not  yet 
having  dawned.     On  looking  at  his  watch,  he  found 


ECARTE. 


«i 


itiat  he  had  only  twenty  minutes  left  to  dress  and  reach 
tlin  lodgings  of  Dormer.  In  ten  minutes  his  toilette 
was  completed,  and,  cautiously  descending  the  staircase, 
ho  found  the  porter  waiting  to  let  him  out,  yet  evidently 
much  surprised,  and  curious  to  know  what  circumstance 
could  cause  an  Englishman  ^nd  a  stranger  to  issue 
forth  at  so  early  an  hour.  Ten  minutes  more  sufficed 
to  bring  him  to  the  Boulevard  quartier  of  the  Rue  de 
Uichelieu,  and  upon  entering  the  apartment  of  his  friend, 
he  found  him  already  dressed  and  awaiting  his  arrival. 

The  figure  of  Dormer  was  not,  however,  the  only 
one  that  caught  the  eye  of  our  hero.  At  the  opposite 
extremity  of  the  room,  and  with  his  back  turned  towards 
the  door,  a  tall,  stout,  middle-aged  personage,  stood 
leaning  over  a  table,  on  which  lay  scattered  several  por- 
tions of  matter  which  Delmaine  was  unable  to  distin- 
guish in  the  dim  light  of  the  apartment,  but  which,  from 
th©  sound,  he  knew  to  be  either  steel  or  iron.  He  had 
now  no  doubt  that  the  individual  thus  earnestly  occu- 
pied was  the  professional  gentleman  Dormer  had  en- 
gagt^d  for  the  occasion,  and  satisfied  that  he  was  pre- 
paring his  surgical  apparatus  for  an  operation,  if  neces- 
)(ury,  he  turned  to  his  friend,  and,  half  jestingly,  ob- 
served, : 

**  These,  indeed,  are  awful  preparations.  Do  you 
think  we  shall  require  the  instruments  ?" 

"  Require  the  instruments !"  shouted  the  busy  ope- 
rator, erecting  his  tall  frame  as  he  turned  suddenly 
round,  and  fastened  his  eyes  on  our  hero,  whose  en- 
trance he  had  been  too  much  occupied  to  notice  before  ; 
'♦  sure,  and  if  ye  mean  to  fight,  ye'll  require  them,  and 
the  devil  a  better  set  of  marking  irons  can  the  three 
kingdoms  produce,  let  me  tell  ye."  * 

Delmaine,  totally  at  a  loss  to  understand  what  parti- 
cular portions  of  the  surgical  apparatus  were  denomi- 
nated "  marking  irons,"  and  not  a  little  surprised  at  the 
unceremonious  interruption  of  the  speaker,  stared  at 
him  for  a  moment,  and  then  turned  inquiringly  towards 
his  friend. 


1 


\ 


i  ■ 


I  1 


'  ■•' 


\      5 


,»,i,'i,-<,,,.»A*<^;".'(«»>"  • 


rl'i 


■}.       V   «! 


B8 


l^CART^. 


Dormer  at  once  saw  the  error  into  which  they  had 
mutually  fallen,  and  hastened  to  introduce  them. 

"  Captain  O'Sullivan,  allow  me  to  introduce  my 
friend  Mr.  Delmaine. — Clifford,  this  is  the  gentleman 
to  whom  we  are  indebted  for  the  pistols." 

"  Really,  Captain,"  said  our  hero,  smiling  at  his 
mistake,  "  I  had  quite  misconceived  your  character  and 
calling,  having  taken  you  for  a  surgeon,  and  the  pistols 
for  his  instruments." 

"  What,  take  me,  Terence  O'Sullivan,  for  a  flesh- 
hacking  surgeon,  nnd  the  best  hair-triggers  that  a  gen- 
tleman ever  put  his  fore-finger  upon,  for  his  filthy  work- 
ing tools — Oh,  Ja,5us!  But  come,  Mr.  Delmaine,  as 
ye  are  to  handle  the  weapons  to-day,  pray  advance 
nearer  to  tlie  light,  and  examine  the  virtues  of  the  boys." 

Our  hero  accordingly  approached  the  table,  when 
the  captain,  taking  up  a  lock  in  one  hand,  and  a  piece 
of  oiled  flannel  ir  the  other,  now  recommenced  the  work 
which  he  had  abandoned  in  his  astonishment,  carefully 
rubbing  every  part,  and  greasing  the  springs,  until  the 
free  action  of  the  pan,  which  he  opened  and  »hut  re- 
peatedly, satisfied  him  that  his  task  was  accomplished. 
A  large  mahogany  case,  containing  all  vhe  parapherna- 
lia of  duelling,  stood  open  upon  the  table.  The  barrels 
of  the  pistols  had  forsaken  their  wonted  places,  but  in 
the  'everal  other  compartments  were  to  be  seen  sci  aw- 
^'•iv  :)wder-flasks,  flints,  wipers,  bullet-moulds,  and 

^mong  the  latter,  the  shining  surfaces  of 
Vvi..  uore  evidence  of  their  having  recently  issued  from 
the  mould,  Delmaine  remarked  one  singularly  ragged 
and  uneven,  blackened  by  fire,  and  evidently  of  a  much 
larger  size  than  the  others.  Taking  it  carelessly  up, 
he  advanced  it  to  the  light,  and  observed  that  it  was 
deeply  indented  on  one  side,  as  if  it  had  come  in  con- 
tact with  a  resisting  bone. 

"  This  is  an  unusually  large  bullet.  Captain,"  he  re- 
marked, *'  and  better  fitted,  I  should  conceive,  to  a  mus- 
ket than  to  a  pistol.  The  poor  fellow  who  received  this 
must  have  had  cause  to  remember  it." 


ti*»''- 


ifiCARTK. 


89 


<*  Indeed,  and  he  remembers  it  no  longer,"  replied 
O'Sullivpn,  in  a  subdued  tone  of  voice.  "  That  same 
bullet  gave  hh  death-wound  to  as  brave  a  lad  as  ever 
pulled  a  trigger,  and  all  owing  to  the  obstinacy  of  tlii!< 
same  French  count,  who  would  not  fight  with  the  lawful 
weapons,  but  insisted  on  having  horse  pistols.*' 

"  Ah,  De  Hillier,  too,"  cried  9blmaine,  his  eyes 
flashing  fire ;  '*  but  how  was  this  permitted — surely  this 
must  be  contrary  to  all  the  rules  of  duelling." 

"  In  faith  it  is,"  replied  O'SuUivan  ;  "  that  is  in  our 
own  blessed  country,  but  these  Frenchmen  can  never  be 
brought  to  do  the  thing  like  gentlemen.  I  would  ra- 
ther, Mr.  Delmaine,"  he  added,  seriously,  and  utterly 
unconscious  of  any  singularity  in  the  remark,  *'  fight 
twenty  duels  at  home,  than  have  the  bother  of  one  in 
this  country.  With  us,  do  ye  see,  it  is  but  to  exchange 
cards,  and  meet  quietly,  and  the  thing  is  soon  settled  ; 
but  a  foreigner  throws  every  obstacle  in  your  way,  and 
ciies  to  have  all  the  advantage  on  his  own  side.  For 
my  own  part,  now  I  know  them,  I  try  to  avoid  them, 
and  not  to  quarrel  with  them  more  thftn  I  can  help." 

'*  Was  the  gentleman  who  fell  considered  a  good 
marksman  ?"  demanded  our  hero,  musingly. 

"  As  good  as  ever  pointed  a  muzzle  of  Joe  Manton's," 
replied  the  captain  proudly.  "  No  man  but  myself 
could  so  easily  hit  a  shilling,  as  he  did  with  these  same 
playthings,  Mr.  Delmaine.  But  the  boy  was  hot,  and 
would  fight  the  blustering  count,  who  had  insulted  him, 
even  on  his  own  terms.  Yet  his  frame  was  delicate ;  and 
though  his  hand  and  eye  were  steady,  the  lock  of 
his  pistol  was  like  that  of  a  musket,  and  the  trigger  so 
stiff*,  that  he  missed  his  adversary,  and  was  shot  himself. 
That  bullet,  sir,  I  keep  as  a  proof  of  the  disgraceful  ad- 
vantages taken  by  foreigners  in  their  duels.  Had  I  not 
been  absent  at  the  time  when  it  was  discharged,  it  would 
not  now  be  there  disfiguring  that  pretty  shining  heap« 
and  poor  Harry  would  yet  have  been  alive." 

"  Poor  Harry,  indeed,"  observed  our  hero.  "  I  had 
heard  much  of  the  affair  in  which  Wilmot  lost  his  life^  but, 


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tin^  this  mometit,  nertt  kn^w  positively  by  Whose  hand 
he  perished." 

"  What,  sir,"  vociferated  the  captain,  throwing  down 
the  last  screw  which  had  been  subnntted  to  die  action 
of  his  ofled  flannel^  while  his  eyes  were  tunied  on  Dd- 
maine,  in  stupid  astonishment-—"  did  you  happen  to 
know  Harry  WihAtf" 

"  I  ought  to  have  known  him,"  replied  Delmaine,  in- 
capable of  repressing  a  smile  at  the  earnest  attitude  and 
manner  of  his  interrogator — "  Wilmot  was  my  cousin." 

"  Your  cousin  !'*  exclumed  O'Sullivan,  with  increased 
surprise — "  Oh,  by  the  powers,  then  give  me  your  hand,- 
for  let  me  tell  ye,  Mr.  Delmaine,  that  ye  are  cousin  to 
as  brave  a  lad  as  ever  presented  his  side  to  be  shot  at, 
at  twelve  paces,  and  great  shame  will  it  be  to  ye  to  suf- 
fer this  same  braggadocio  of  a  count,  who  has  already 
killed  one  cousin,  to  kill  the  other  also.  Pray,  have  ye 
ever  been  in  training,  Mr.  Delmaine  f" 
V  "Training,"  echoed  Clifibrd,  "I  know  not  what  you 
mean,  captain." 

"  Have  ye  ever  practised  much  with  the  barkers  ?" 
continued  O'Sullivan,  glancing  his  eye  at  the  pistols, 
which  now  lay  highly  polished  and  ready  for  use  in 
their  proper  compartments. 

The  glance  was  sufficient  to  explain  his  meaning, 
and  Delmaine  replied,  much  to  O' Sullivan's  disappoint- 
ment, that  he  had  not  discharged  a  pistol  more  than  a 
dozen  times  in  the  course  of  his  existence. 

"  Oh,  Jasus !"  muttered  the  Irishman,  shrugging  up 
liis  shoulders,  and  turning  up  his  eye-balls  with  an  ex- 
pression of  almost  contempt  for  our  hero's  ignorance 
on  so  important  a  point.  "  Why,  sir,  Harry  Wilmot 
practised  so  long  that  he  could  almost  hit  a  shilling  with 
Ijis  eyes  shut." 

Delmaine  felt  somewhat  disposed  to  be  angry  at  the 
contemptuous  manner  in  which  the  captain  drew  his 
comparison  between  himself  and  cousin  ;  but  a  look  from 
Dormer  checked  his  rising  bile,  and  he  replied,  though 
in  the  sharp  tone  of  one  evidently  piqued  at  an  implied 


J^CUIT^. 


91 


inferiority,  "  Althougli  I  may  ilot  be  safficientlv  exjpert 
to  hit  a  shilling  with  my  eyes  shut,  Captain  0'Suilivan> 
I  trust  I  may  possess  coolness  and  skill  enou^  to  hit  a 
man  with  them(^n." 

^  "Sure  now,  Mr.  Delmaine,"  rejoined  the  captain, 
ejctending  his  hand,  and  in  a  voice  which  he  intended 
should  be  conciliating,  **  ye  are  not  offended  with  me. 
I  was  only  afraid,  do  ye  see,  that  as  ye  know  bat  little 
of  the  management  of  the  weapons,  ye  would  miss  the 
Frenchman;  and  instead  of  making  him  pay  off  old 
scores,  for  the  deadi  of  Harry  Wihnot,  have  your  own 
life  to  answer  for  in  the  bargain.  But  that  last  speech 
of  yours  has  reason  in  it,  and  I  do  believe,  after  all,  that 
a  cool  head  with  a  steady  hand,  may  do  much  with 
these  little  jewels,  especially  as  a  man  is  not  a  shilling. 
Now  then,"  he  continued,  taking  out  his  watch,  '*  we 
have  just  half  an  hour  to  ^are  for  our  preparations." 

"  Preparations  !"  echoed  Delmaine,  "  what  further 
preparations  can  be  necessary,  Captain  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  perceive,"  said  the  other,  "  that  ye  are  as  yet 
but  a  novice  in  these  affairs.  Surely,  Mr.  Delmaine," 
gl  ancing  at  Clifford's  morning  dress,  "  ye  are  not  go- 
ing to  fight  in  those  things?" 

"  And  why  not  ?"  replied  our  hero,  who  now  began 
to  think  his  new  acquaintance  was  even  something  more 
than  eccentric. 

*•  Why,  sir,"  resumed  O' Sullivan,  "  whoever  heard 
of  a  gentleman  fighting  in  that  garb  !  Black  silk  panta- 
loons and  stockings,  'black  coat  buttoned  up  to  the 
throat,  black  silk  handkerchief  round  the  neck-~not  a 
speck  of  white  to  be  seen — this,  sir,  is  the  real  duelling 
dress  :  but  a  blue  coat  with  metal  buttons,  and  a  pair 
of  trowsers  of  such  dimensions— oh  monstrous  ! — and 
against  such  a  marksman  as  De  Hillier,  too— why,  sir,- 
every  button  in  your  coat  would  be  a  bull's-eye  for  him, 
and  he  must  be  a  bungler,  indeed,  who  would  miss  your 
legs  with  such  a  quantity  of  cloth  to  conduct  his  pistol. 
The  de;.d  black,  sir,  is  the  thing — it  disconcerts  the  aim. 
and  diminishes  the  object  to  the  eve,  while  the  silk  pan- 


■\  i- 


92 


l^CART^. 


taloon  often  turns  aside  the  ball,  and  saves  a  man  from 
being  a  cripple  for  life." 

"  All  this  may  be  very  well  for  a  professed  duellist^ 
captain,"  returned  Delmaine,  smiling,  "but  you  may  rest 
assured,  that  whatever  advantages  the  metal  button  and 
loose  trowsers  may  give  my  adversary  over  me,  I  shall 
make  no  alteration  in  my  dress  for  this  occasion — nay, 
were  I  so  disposed,  I  could  not  now  possibly  find  time  to 
effect  it." 

O'SuUivan  stared,  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  knows 
not  whether  he  may  credit  the  evidence  of  his  senses.— 
It  was  the  first 'time,  during  the  course  of  his  long  prac- 
tice, that  his  opinion  on  such  subjects  had  ever  been 
disputed  ;  and  as  it  had  always  been  his  pride  and  de- 
light to  be  considered  as  an  adviser  in  affairs  of  honour, 
from  whose  decision  there  could  be  no  appeal,  his  mor- 
tification in  the  present  instance  was  extreme.  His  first 
impression  was  to  turn  away  witli  disdain,  firom  one 
whom  he  considered  so  ignorant  and  yet  so  obstinate ; 
but  the  recollection  that  Delmaine  was  the  cousin  of  the 
youth,  whose  untimely  fate  he  had  so  much  lamented, 
operated  as  a  check  on  his  growing  resentment.  With 
that  sort  of  pity,  therefore,  which  a  man  may  be  sup- 
posed to  entertain  for  one  whose  good  or  ill  success  in 
a  particular  pursuit  he  fancies  rests  wholly  with  him- 
self, and  who,  if  abandoned  by  him,  must  be  exposed  to 
a  fate  the  most  disastrous,  he  coolly  observed —    tf  *>  . 

"  Well,  Mr.  Delmaine,  just  as  ye  please  about  the 
dress ;  but  mark  me,  Terence  O*  Sullivan,  if  ye  do  not 
Jive  to  repent  it.  And  now,  sir,  while  I  go  through 
the  manoeuvres,  and  show  ye  how  to  raise  the  pistols 
with  effect,  will  ye  be  just  kind  enough  to  throw  ofi* 
your  coat,  pull  up  your  shirt  sleeve,  and  steep  your 
arm  in  that  pail  of  water,  which  ye  see  standing  there.*^ 
Then  taking,,  up  a  pistol,  and  assuming  the  attitude 
usually  adopted  in  affairs  of  the  kind,  he  placed  his 
right  side  full  to  the  front,  and  stretching  himself  to  his 
utmost  height,  .^;,,.- 


^CART]g. 


*'  Look  ye  here,  sir,"  he  observed,  glancing  for  a 
moment  at  his  feet,  "  this  is  the  true  position :  the  heels 
touching  each  other,  the  toes  turned  outwards ;"  then  once 
m6re  erecting  his  frame  and  fastening  his  eye  on  a  pair 
of  gloves  that  lay  on  a  secretaire  at  the  further  extremity 
of  the  room,  "  We  will  suppose  that  object  to  be  the 
vital  part  of  a  man's  body ;  let  the  eye  be  fixed  on  it, 
and  as  you  raise  the  pistol  in  a  straight  line  from  the 
hip  to  its  proper  level,  it  will  follow  the  direction  of  your 
gaze  as  naturally  as  the  needle  follows  the  magnet.  The 
arm  should  be  free,  and  the  nerves  well  braced,  without 
too  much  hurry  in  the  action.  But,"  he  continued, 
observing  that  our  hero  had  not  attended  to  his  last  in- 
structions, *'  I  see,  Mr.  Delmaine,  ye  are  not  using  the 
pail  of  water." 

"  And  with  what  view  is  it  to  be  used,  captain  ?"  in- 
quired Clifford. 

"  With  what  view,  sir !"  echoed  O'SuUivan,  unable 
to  conceal  his  impatience  at  being  questioned  on  such  a 
subject — "  why,  that  the  nerves  and  sinews  of  the  arm 
may  be  strengthened,  and  your  aim  consequently  prove 
less  uncertain.  When  that  is  done,  sir,  a  glass  of  good 
old  cogniac  will  warm  your  heart,  and  then  we  shall 
take  our  departure." 

"  Excuse  me.  Captain  O' Sullivan,"  returned  our 
hero,  with  warmth.  "  I  am  extremely  obliged  to  you 
for  the  advice  you  have  been  kind  enough  to  offer,  but 
Mr.  Dormer  is  my  friend  on  this  occasion ;  and  as  I 
neither  require  cogniac  to  warm  my  heart,  nor  cold  water 
to  brace  my  nerves,  I  beg  leave  to  decline  using  either." 

The  countenance  of  O'SuUivan  fell,  froni  an  expres- 
sion of  conscious  superiority,  to  one  of  bitter  humilia- 
tion and  disappointment,  and  there  was  an  evident  and 
powerful  effort  to  suppress  the  outbreaking  of  his  indig- 
nant feelings.  This,  however,  lasted  but  for  a  moment, 
and  he  deigned  not  to  reply.  Taking  up  his  hat,  and 
moving  with  a  dignity  of  manner  of  which  neither  of 
the  friends  could  have  believed  him  capable,  he  ob- 
served to  Dormer —  -  "  "  "^  -''^ 


11 


K-- 


i  .- 


;  Vi^- 


I  i 


h  I   ■*. 


* 


i?'-* 


94 


l^CARTl^. 


"  Mr.  Dormer,  as  I  find  that  my  presence  on  this 
occasion  is  not  required,  I  shalU  beg  leave  to  withdravir ; 
you  will  find  the  pistols  quite  in  readiness,  and  I  hope," 
(with  a  half-aside  and  sneering  glance,)  "  that  the  gen- 
tleman will  know  how  to  use  them.  I  wish  you  a  good 
morning."  Then,  after  having  noticed  Delmaine  by  a 
cool  and  studied  inclination  of  the  head,  he  moved  to- 
wards the  door  before  Dormer  could  find  time  to  ring 
the  bell. 

The  ofiended  consequence  of  O' Sullivan  could  not, 
however,  prevail  over  the  afiection  he  bore  to  those 
weapons,  which  he  now  left  in  the  hands  of  men  whom 
he  conceived  to  be  utterly  inexperienced  in  their  ma- 
nagement. He  had  scarcely  put  his  hand  on  the  lock  of 
the  door,  when,  a  sudden  thought  occurring  to  him,  he 
turned  again  and  remarked,  "  Mr.  Dormer,  as  you  are 
not,  perhaps,  aware,  that  in  the  event  of  either  of  the 
parties  being  killed,"  his  head  almost  instinctively  nod- 
ded in  the  direction  of  Delmaine,  as  if  he  anticipated 
no  other  result  in  regard  to  our  hero,  "  the  weapons,  if 
found,  are  forfeited  to  the  laws ;  I  wish  you  would  be 
kind  enough  to  have  them  taken  care  of,  and  forwarded 
to  my  hotel." 

Dormer  replied  in  the  affirmative,  and  commenced  an 
entreaty  to  O' Sullivan  to  remain  and  accompany  them, 
when  another  formal  "  I  wish  you  good  morning,  sir," 
cut  him  short  in  his  address,  and  the  captain  quitted  the 
apartment. 

Dormer  had  been  a  silent  listener  to  the  preceding 
conversation,  and  although  apprehensive  that  the  pecu- 
liar notions  of  O'Sullivan  on  this  his  favourite  subject, 
would  bot  meet  with  the  approbation  of  his  friend, 
he  was  by  no  means  prepared  to  expect  a  disunion  of 
sentiment  and  purpose  to  the  extent  now  exhibited.  He 
knew  that  the  captain,  whatever  might  be  his  peculiari- 
ties of  character,  was  not  only  fully  conversant  with  the 
rules  to  be  observed  in  afiairs  of  honour,  but  that  his 
experience  would  enable  them  to  meet  any  obstacles 
thrown  in  the  way  of  a  fair  and  honourable  encounter 


byDe  : 

possible 
O'Sulli^ 
theory  i 
good-na 
at  the  r( 
on  his  c( 
"Re? 
verely,  i 
Mounced 
O'SuUiv 
sal  he  I 
him." 

"  Pisl 

tone,  sec 

the  self-( 

mit  his  < 

duelling 

ter;  doe 

nerves  re 

our  hear 

him  here. 

Then 

of  a  valei 

which  w 

ing.     In 

sense  of 

sion,  mai 

the  since] 

were  aga 

ty  minute 

tol-case  u 

descende( 

lip,  they  s 

for  the  pi 

thence  wi 


'JfH^'.r.t^r 


J^CARTlg. 


95 


by  De  Hillter,  whose  disposition  to  avail  himself  of  all 
possible  advantages  was  notorious.  He  also  knew  that 
O'Sullivan,  when  not  engaged  in  the  discussion  of  a 
theory  which  was  literally  his  hobby,  was  at  least  a 
good-natured  and  unassuming  man,  and  hc^  felt  pained 
at  the  recoUectionof  wounded  pride  so  forcibly  depicted 
on  his  countenance  at  his  departure. 

"  Really,  Delmaine,"  he  exclaimed,  somewhat  se- 
verely, when  the  receding  footsteps  of  the  captain  an- 
nounced that  he  was  out  of  hearing,  "  you  are  wrong ; 
O' Sullivan  had  your  good  alone  in  view,  in  the  propo- 
sal he  made,  and  your  manner  has  deeply  offended 
him." 

"  Pish !  nonsense  !"  replied  the  other  in  the  same 
tone,  secretly  vexed  with  himself  for  having  wounded 
the  self-consequence  of  the  captain,  yet  unwilling  to  ad- 
mit his  error.  "  The  man  is  a  perfect  bore,  with  his 
duelling  dresses,  and  his  cogniac,  and  his  pails  of  wa- 
ter ;  does  he  ^ake  us  for  cowards,  that  he  imagines  our 
nerves  require  to  be  strengthened  with  cold  water,  and 
our  hearts  with  brandy  f  You  should  not  have  asked 
him  here." 

The  reply  of  Dormer  was  prevented  by  the  entrance 
of  a  valet  de  place,  who  came  to  say,  that  the  carriage 
which  was  to  convey  them  to  the  wood,  was  in  wait- 
ing. In  an  instant  the  friends,  recalled  to  a  proper 
sense  of  the  unfitness  of  the  moment  for  warm  discus- 
sion, manifested  by  the  change  of  their  countenances 
tiie  sincere  contrition  which  they  felt,  and  their  hand:: 
were  again  extended  in  amity.  It  now  wanted  but  twen- 
ty minutes  to  the  appointed  time,  when  placing  the  pis- 
tol-case under  his  arm.  Dormer,  preceded  by  our  hero, 
descended  to  the  court,  where  the  carriage  being  drawn 
up,  they  stepped  in  and  proceeded  to  the  Rue  de  le  Paix, 
for  the  purpose  of  taking  up  their  medical  friend,  and 
thence  with  all  rapidity  to  the  Bois  de  Boulogne. 


;H' 


A 


/ 


..Vi.  »-■. 


90 


iCAfLTt, 


«.         r    • 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Whoever  has  taken  up  these  volumes  with  the  ex- 
pectation of  meeting  with  a  detail  of  more  than  ordinary 
incidents,  or  discovering  more  than  ordinary  perfection 
in  the  leading  characters,  will  be  disappointed.     We 
pretend  not  to  enter  the  lists  with  those  who  have  the 
happy  art  of  devesting  their  heroes  and  heroines  of  all 
the  weaknesses  common  to  human  nature,  and  clothing 
them  in  such  brilliancy  of  wisdom  and  virtue  as  to  render 
it  a  task  of  difficulty  to  determine  whether  they  should 
belong  to  earth  or  heaven.     The  characters  in  our  story 
are  such  as  are  to  be  met  with  every  day,  and  we  are 
inclined  to  hope  that  we  shall  not  be  utterly  unsuccess- 
ful in  our  attempt  to  render  them  natural,  since  many 
of  the  events  are  fiirnished  by  our  own  experience. 
Many  a  Delmaine,  and  many  a  Dormer,  has  figured  ou 
the  various  scenes  of  the  French  metropolis,  and  there 
are  probably  few  young  Englishmen  gifted  with  rank  or 
fortune,  or  both,  who  may  not  recognise  some  features 
in  the  picture  here  imperfectly  portrayed,  which  will 
admit  of  application  to  themselves.     Founded  principal- 
ly on  facts,  this  story  may  in  some  measure  be  account- 
ed personal,  yet  we  are  aware  that  we  cannot  do  harm, 
since  self-love  will  prevent  most  people  from  identify- 
ing themselves  with  the  satirized ;  while  of  course  it  must 
be  a  matter  of  absolute  indifference  to  us,  who  or  how 
many^deem  themselves  the  favoured  beings  intended  to 
be  represented  by  the  less  objectionable  personages. 
If  the  exposition  of  hidden  danger  can  possibly  produce 
that  effect  which  it  is  the  almost  exclusive  province  of 
experience  to  compass,  we  may  at  least  derive  satisfac- 
tion from  the  conviction  that  a  salutary  lesson  has  not 
vainly  been  afforded  by  us  to  the  young  and  the  inex- 


/ 


■■L'-i...."t*-'l 


£cart£. 


97 


perlenced,  Uie  tendency  of  which  will  be  to  prevent  tlie 
latent  germs  of  evil  from  ripening  into  premature  fulness 
by  too  close  an  approximation  to  these  hot-beds  of  vice 
and  immorality. 

The  character  of  Delmaine,  as  partially  developed  in 
the  preceding  chapter,  was  not  certainly  of  the  most 
conciliatory  or  convenient  order,  yet  his  disposition  was 
kind,  and  his  heart  glowed  with  the  most  generous  of 
human  feelings.  Endowed  with  a  susceptibility  which' 
rendered  him  unable  to  endure  even  the  shadow  of  slight 
or  insult,  he  was  equally  incapable  of  conve3ring  inten- 
tional offence  to  another ;  and  the  very  sensitiveness  of 
feeling  for  which  he  was  remarkable,  was  in  itself  a  cer- 
tain pledge  of  the  delicacy  he  observed  in  regard  to 
others.  Implacable,  however,  to  a  certain  extent,  in  his 
resentments,  he  never  easily  forgave  a  wanton  and  pre- 
meditated attack  on  his  feelings.  Any  attempt  to  injure 
liim  in  a  worldly  sense,  he  could  have  overlooked ;  and, 
however  necessary  he  might  deem  it  to  resent  a  personal 
violence,  such  an  offence  was,  in  his  view,  of  an  inferior 
description,  and  could  be  pardoned  as  soon  as  expiated; 
but  an  unprovoked  and  studied  attack  on  his  pride  was 
what  neither  the  strength  of  his  reason  nor  the  generosi- 
ty of  his  nature  could  induce  him  to  forget.         ^': 

It  was  this  feeling,  not  less  than  his  growing  regard 
for  Miss  Stanley,  that  had  aroused  the  more  tempestu- 
ous passions  of  his  soul,  when  the  insulting  De  Hillier 
so  sneeringly  demanded  of  his  friend,  whether  he  was 
not  from  "  la  cite."  The  dry  manner  of  O' Sullivan 
subsequently,  when  alluding  to  his  ignorance  in  the  no- 
ble art  of  wielding  a  pistol,  had  also  piqued  him  ex- 
ceedingly ;  for  although  he  knew  that  in  this  as  well  as 
in  many  other  equally  unimportant  points,  he  had  no 
experience,  that  besetting  sin,  his  pride,  rendered  him 
incapable  of  enduring  that  his  ignorance  should  be  no- 
ticed or  commented  on,  even  by  those  whose  opinions  he 
must  have  held  in  the  greatest  contempt.  In  short,  it 
was  that  species  of  ambition  which,  in  leading  him  to 
feel  desirous  of  being  considered  as  excelling  in  all  that 

VOL.  I.  9 


r   4* 


,,.,.»«..;  VV<»,1  ' 


iTjMiJ&j' A:^-^J^I&mf,i, ,;.. 


98 


tCAKTt. 


-•A' 


he  undertook,  without,  however,  taking  the  pains  to  ar- 
rive at  that  excellence,  that  tended  to  confirm  our  hero 
in  his  peculiar  susceptibility  to  the  opinions  and  observa- 
tions of  others. 

Yet  though  governed  by  those  wild  and  contradictory 
feelings  which  would  not  have  rendered  him  slow  to  raise 
his  arm  against  those  by  whom  he  often  erroneously 
fancied  slight  or  insult  was  offered,  the  heart  of  Del- 
maine  glowed  with  the  -kindliest  impulses  towards  those 
whom  intimacy  had  taught  to  appreciate  his  character, 
and  to  enter  into  his  feelings ;  confiding,  where  he  suf- 
fered himself  to  be  attached,  the  very  few  fiiendsfaips  he 
had  formed  were  of  an  enthusiastic  description.  At  his 
first  entrance  into  life,  he  had  carried  with  him,  as  many 
young  men  of  his  ardent  character  usually  do,  a  fund  of 
love  and  good  feeling  towards  his  fellow  men ;  but,  al- 
though now  only  in  his  twenty-fourth  year,  his  partial 
intercourse  with  the  world  had  been  of  a  nature  to  con- 
vince him  that  he  had  always  pictured  society  as  being 
not  what  it  is,  but  what  he  wished  it  should  be. 

Gay  and  grave  in  turn,  his  impressions  took  their 
colouring  from  the  tone  of  his  feelings  at  the  moment, 
and  to  these,  just  or  erroneous,  he  adhered  with  singu- 
lar pertinacity.  His  support  or  concession  of  any  parti- 
cular points  of  discussion,  depended  wholly  on  his  ca- 
price. With  those  he  liked  he  ever  waived  his  own 
opinions,  and  with  a  facility,  which  had  its  origin  in  real 
amiability  of  character,  said  "  yes,"  or  "  no,"  as  he 
thought  that  "  yes,"  or  "  no,"  would  be  most  favour- 
ably received.  On  the  contrary,  with  those  he  disliked, 
or  for  whom  he  felt  indifference,  he  maintained  his 
opinions  with  a  warmth  sometimes  amounting  to  obsti- 
nacy ;  nor  could  any  arguments  of  his  adversary,  how- 
ever they  might  convince,  induce  him  to  abandon  his 
position.  Other  peculiarities,  and  those  of  a  nature  al- 
most inseparable  from  such  a  character,  while  sufficient 
in  themselves  to  cast  a  shade  over  the  brightest  quali- 
ties, were  also  his.  These  will  be  developed  in  the 
course  of  our  narrative :  let  it  suffice  for  the  present  to 


M 


r.»,ytrf.i'ji    ti,,..' 


£cart£. 


99 


observe,  that  the  character  of  our  hero  was  unlike  the 
character  of  most  heroes — a  contradiction.  Let  us  now 
follow  him  to  the  rencontre  with  the  formidable  and 
pugnacious  De  Hillier. 

As  they  proceeded  rapidly  towards  the  wood,  the 
friends  were  struck  by  the  appearance  of  numerous 
horsemen  advancing  in  the  same  direction,  a  circum- 
stance rather  unusual  at  that  early  hour,  and  they  at 
once  inferred  that  they  were  the  friends  of  the  comte, 
anxious  to  witness  the  result  of  the  contest.  The  most 
of  these,  as  they  passed  the  carriage,  leaned  forward  in 
their  saddles,  in  order  to  catch  a  distinct  view  of  the  party 
within,  and  then  dashed  forward  with  additional  speed. 

As  the  carriage  turned  from  the  high  road  into  the 
enclosure,  several  groups  were  discovered  moving  care- 
lessly along  the  various  paths  which  branch  off  from  the 
entrance  of  the  wood.  One  only,  consisting  of  a  <  brio- 
let  and  several  horsemen,  remained  stationary.  In  the 
former  were  two  individuals  whom  the  friends  imme- 
diately recognised  for  Lord  Hervey  and  De  Hillier.  As 
the  carriage  passed,  Delmaine,  who  sat  at  the  window 
nearest  this  group,  ouught  the  fierce  eye  of  the  comte, 
who,  turning  round  at  the  instant,  spat  upon  the  ground 
in  the  most  insulting  and  marked  manner,  while  his 
friends  around  expressed  their  admiration  of  the  act  by 
a  general  and  loud  laugh. 
-    "  Did  you  ever  witness  such  brutal  conduct  ?" 

"  How  ungentlemanly,"  remarked  Dormer  and  the 
surgeon,  indignantly,  at  the  same  moment.  Delmaine 
spoke  not ;  but  the  quivering  of  his  lip,  and  the  in- 
creasing paleness  of  his  cheek,  sufficiently  marked  his 
sense  of  the  insult,  while  his  rolling  eye  seemed  incapa- 
ble of  dwelling  on  auy  particular  object,  even  for  an 
instant. 

In  a  minute  aftei*wards,  De  Hillier  lashed  his  horse 
past  them,  with  the  utmost  fury,  and  led  the  way  to- 
wards the  ground  that  had  been  selected. 

*'  Suivez  ce  cabriolet  dep'esV  said  Dormer,  having 


,'* 


»•««>•'•■ 


.^iin^sf^' •'■■<■• 


m 


100 


pulled  the  check-string,  and  arrested  the  attention  of 
the  driver. 

Soon  afterwards  the  cabriolet  stopped,  and  the  parties 
alighted,  directing  their  course  towards  a  secluded  part 
of  the  woud.  Clifford  and  Dormer,  accompanied  by  the 
surgeon,  followed  at  some  little  distance,  when,  on  enter- 
ing a  small  vista,  surrounded  by  underwood,  and  pecu- 
liarly adapted  to  the  purpose,  De  Hillier  and  his  friend 
suddenly  came  to  a  stand.  .^^:  -t'/si'^ 

Leaving  his  party  in  the  rear.  Dormer  now  advanced, 
in  order  to  settle  the  preliminaries  with  his  lordship, 
who  had  no  little  difficulty  in  persuading  De  Hillier  to 
be  guided  wholly  by  his  counsel.  With  much  bravado 
and  gesticulation,  he  insisted  either  that  one  pistol  only 
should  be  loaded,  and  that  they  should  toss  up  for  the 
choice,  or  that  they  should  be  placed  at  twenty-five 
paces,  and  advance  upon  each  other,  reserving  their  fire 
until  they  had  approached  within  a  few  feet.  Lord 
Hervey  remained  firm  in  his  determination  to  settle  the 
affair  in  the  usual  manner,  threatening  to  decline  all 
interference  in  his  behalf,  unless  the  matter  should  be 
left  entirely  to  his  own  direction.  After  some  difficulty, 
De  Hillier  at  length  assented,  and  twelve  paces  having 
been  measured,  he  threw  off  his  coat,  waistcoat,  hat,  &ic. 
and  took  his  station  on  the  ground.  Summoned  by  his 
friend,  Delmaine  now  advanced,  and  placed  himself  at 
the  opposite  extremity,  while  the  seconds  proceeded  to 
load  the  pistols  in  the  presence  of  each  other. 

The  signal  agreed  upon  was  three  claps  of  the  hand : 
at  the  first,  the  parties  were  to  be  in  readiness ;  at  the 
second,  to  raise  their  pistols ;  and  at  the  tliird,  to  fire. 

The  weapons  were  now  handed  by  the  respective 
seconds  to  the  combatants,  and  Lord  Hervey,  to  whom 
the  lot  had  fallen,  was  about  to  give  the  signal,  when  De 
Hillier,  suddenly  insisted  that  his  adversary  should  strip 
himself  as  he  had  done.  "  Look,"  he  exclaimed,  with 
an  ur  of  bombast,  opening  his  shirt,  and  laying  bare 
his  chest,  "  I  carry  no  armour  upon  me.  Prove  that 
you  have  none,  in  the  same  manner." 


'.  >'-^.  r._-sr"  ult  '-.■.■.■ .-  !■  ">u«^  ■:■  ■    .rij.^'i«*;i 


1     ■- 


m 


His  lordship,  evidently  mortified  at  the  conduct  of  hii 
friend,  now  rt>marked  to  Dormer,  that  itwai  cuitomary 
in  France,  in  affairs  of  honour,  to  adopt  the  courM  pur- 
sued by  thr  comte. 

Dormer  knew  that  it  was,  and  looked  at  Delmaine, 
when  the  latter,  putting  down  his  pistol,  proceeded  with 
a  coolness  and  self-possession  which  disconcerted  his  an- 
tagonist, whose  object  it  was  to  excite  him,  and  conse- 
quently render  his  aim  less  certain,  to  devest  himself  of 
the  same  articles  of  dress  which  the  other  had  aban- 
doned.   ^A,  j;  V     '  '»  "  '. 

"  Moiuieurt  est  il  gatufaif?"  he  demanded,  with  a 
contemptuous  sneer,  that  caused  De  Hillier  to  tremble 
with  rage ;  then  taking  up  the  weapon,  and  resuming 
his  position,  he  once  more  awaited  the  movement  of  his 
lordship. 

The  eyes  of  the  combatants  were  bent  upon  each 
other  at  the  first  signal,  wiih  a  steadiness  and  quickness 
which  made  Dormer  shudder  for  the  result }  at  the  se- 
cond, their  hands  were  slowly  and  deliberately  raised, 
until  they  came  upon  a  line  with  their  eyes  ;  while  the 
third  was  almost  lost  in  the  single  report  of  the  two  pis- 
tols. In  the  next  instant  De  Hillier  was  seen  stagger- 
ing backwards,  while  the  blood  which  issued  from  u 
wound  in  the  right  breast,  poured  down  the  folds  of  his 
linen,  and  trickled  to  the  earth.  Delmaine  nlso  had 
dropped  his  pistol,  and  was  in  the  act  of  pressing  his 
right  side,  with  his  hands  closely  compressed  together, 
and  the  seconds  of  both  remained  for  a  moment  irreso- 
lute, as  if  dreading  to  learn  the  full  extent  of  the  mis- 
chief. 

"  Dieu,  il  est  mart  /"  "  Faith  he  has  shot  him  !  But 
my  pistol  i  Oh,  Jasus,  it  is  on  the  ground,"  burst  at  the 
same  moment  from  two  different  quarters  of  the  wood ; 
und  in  the  next  instant  O'SuUivan,  accompanied  by  ano- 
ther gentleman,  rushed  yaris  Delmaine,  while  a 
French  surgeon,  and  one  or  two  of  his  most  intimate 
friends,  advanced  to  the  assistance  of  De  Hillier. 

**  Are  you  much  hurt,  Mr.  Delmaine  f"  earnestly  in- 

♦9 


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i.  J 


quired  the  captain,  having  previously  ascertained  that 
his  pistol  had  sustained  no  injury  in  its  fall.  It  was 
evident,  from  the  tone  in  which  this  question  was  asked, 
that  our  hero  had  risen  more  rapidly  in  his  estimation 
than  quicksilver  in  the  dog-days,  and  he  pursued,  "  Oh, 
sure  and  ye  are,  for  see,"  turning  to  the  person  by 
whom  he  was  accompanied,  "  what  a  rent  there  is  in  the 
waistband,  and  observe  how  this  metal  button  has  been 
indented  by  the  ball." 

Delmaine,  however,  heard  him  not ;  for,  though  suf- 
fering much  from  pain  himself,  his  attention  was  rivetted 
on  his  adversary,  whom  he  could  not,  without  emotion, 
behold  weltering  in  his  blood,  and  possibly  wounded 
beyond  recovery.  -^ 

"  Is  he  dangerously  hurt  ?"  he  inquired  of  Dormer, 
who  had  advanced  to  ascertain  the  nature  of  his  injury. 

"  I  will  see,"  replied  his  friend,  and  he  hastened  to 
the  spot,  where  a  very  skilful  surgeon  was  examining 
the  wound  of  the  comte,  whose  pale  cheek,  and  heavy 
eye,  betrayed  less  of  suffering,  than  rage  and  shame  at 
the  success  of  his  opponent,  at  whom  he  occasionally 
glanced  with  all  the  ferocity  of  expression  he  could  yet 
command.  ^ 

In  a  few  minutes  Dormer  returned,  and  announced, 
that  though  the  ball  had  entered  some  inches  into  the 
side,  th^  surgeon  had  declared  the  wount^  not  to  be 
mortal.  Satisfied  with  this  assurance,  Dehnaine  soon 
lost  sight  of  the  concern  he  had  for  n  moment  taken  in 
the  situation  of  his  adversary,  and  suffered  his  own  me- 
dical attendant  to  officiate.  Much  to  the  surprise  and 
pleasure  of  his  friends,  it  was  found  on  loosening  the 
waistband,  and  removing  the  shirt,  that  the  ball  had  not 
penetrated,  although  a  large  black  mark  sufficiently  at- 
tested the  severity  of  the  contusion.  So  acute  was  the 
pain  occasioned  by  the  blow,  that  Delmaine  had  sup- 
posed the  hip  bone  to  have  b.en  broken,  and  the  numb- 
ing sensation  produced  by  it  had  compelled  him  to  drop 
his  pistol  at  the  moment  of  its  discharge.  On  examina- 
tion»  it  appeared  that  the  bullet  from  De  Hillier's  wea^^ 


,aiK,\u,-^  .-;■».    iiSdti* 


■>**--^ 


IBCARTI^. 


103 


pon,  but  too  faithfully  aimed,  had  encountered  the  metal 
button,  and,  glancing  obliquely  off,  had  torn  away  seve- 
ral inches  of  the  waistband,  through  which  it  finally  dis- 
appeared. 

Several  of  the  friends  of  De  Hillier,  who  had  been  im- 
pati3ntly  lingering  at  a  short  distance,  awaiting  the 
result,  now  advanced  to  the  scene  of  combat.  Their 
surprise  and  disappointment,  however,  were  extreme, 
when  glancing  from  the  bleeding  and  recumbent  form 
of  the  count,  they  beheld  our  hero  apparently  unhurt  and 
unmoved,  amid  the  small  circle  of  his  friends.  Among 
the  number  of  these  persons  was  an  officer  of  the  French 
guards,  an  Irishman  by  birth,  but  long  since  expatriated 
and  devoted  to  the  service  of  France.  The  form  of  this 
individual  was  colossal,  and  bore  a  striking  resemblance 
to  the  statues  of  Hercules,  which  graced  the  promenades 
in  which  he  was  daily  wont  to  exhibit  his  own  powerful 
proportions.  The  head  was  large,  the  eye  and  features 
dull  and  heavy,  while  the  short  curling  hair,  descending 
low  into  the  neck,  was  of  unusual  thickness  and  short- 
ness ;  the  chest  was  broad  and  full,  the  limbs  brawny 
and  muscular,  and  the  large  knees,  inclining  inwards, 
gave  indication  of  extreme  strength,  at  the  expense  of 
those  graces  which  characterize  the  proportions  of  the 
Apollo  Belvidere.  This  individual  was  likewise  a  sort 
of  bully,  who  had  contrived  to  keep  many  of  the  humbler 
spirits  in  awe  by  his  bold  and  Swaggering  manner,  and 
his  professed  readiness  to  drink  the  blood  of  his  enemies, 
even  as  Polyphemus  once  drank  that  of  the  companions 
of  Ulysses.  Considering  this  an  excellent  opportunity 
to  produce  an  effect,  he  now  called  out,  in  a  language, 
which  in  words  was  English,  but  utterly  French  in  tone 
and  in  accent, 

"  Gentlemen,  I  wish  to  know  whether  this  duel  has 
been  fair  and  honourable  ?" 

The  voice  was  instantly  recognised  by  O'Sullivan, 
who  stood  with  his  back  towards  the  speaker  at  the  mo- 
ment.    Turning  suddenly  round,  and  fixing  his  eyes  on 


:   I 


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104 


i^cart£. 


the  gigantic  mass  by  whom  the  question  had  been  vo- 
ciferated, he  coolly  observed  : 

"  Faith,  and  is  it  you,  Mr.  De  Warner,  who  wish  to 
know  if  the  duel  has  been  fair  f  Here  am  I,  Captain 
Terence  O'Sullivan,  of  His  Britannic  Majesty's  — —  re- 
giment, ready  to  support  it,,  if  ye  9fe  inclined  to  think 
otherwise."  ■,■.'..?*. f(^  <-,x-U-t-^:.)A-,ji     j<\; 

The  bushy  and  overhanging  brows  of  Mr.  De  War- 
ner were  soon  restored  to  their  natural  position  on  the 
short  thick  forehead,  which  a  perpetual  habit  of  frown- 
ing had  covered  with  innumerable  wrinkles,  and  he  now 
made  a  painful  effort  to  throw  something  like  a  smile 
into  his  ungainly  features,  as  he  replied,  in  a  much  less 
hostile  tone, 

"  Ah,  captain,  I  did  not  know  that  you  were  present ; 
but  now  I  am  perfectly  satisfied  that  every  thing  is  cor- 
rect." 'iiiliHU^^f.^/'^.  tr^t'-NS  ^^lrifei)>n^ .  M  S'JiivF'  '■.;; 

"  I  am  happy  to  ifind  that  you  are  satisfied,"  drrvvled 
forth  O^SuUivan,  sneeringly. 

The  fact  was,  that  the  captain  knew  De  Warner, 
rather  better  than  that  individual  could  have  wished. — 
During  a  recent  visit  to  his  nsitive  country,  he  had 
dined  at  a  large  public  party,  of  which  the  captain  made 
one,  and  refusing  to  drink  the  king's  health,  had  been 
turned  out  of  the  room  by  an  intimate  friend  of  O'Sulli- 
van, of  whom,  however,  he  had  not  once  thought  proper 
to  demand  satisfaction,  but  had  contented  himself  with 
quitting  Dublin  for  France  on  the  following  morning. 

Had  it  not  been  for  the  opportune  presence  of  O'Sul- 
livan at  this  moment,  in  all  probability  the  interruption 
would  have  led  to  serious  results  between  the  friends  ol" 
the  combatants.  As  it  was,  all  further  discussion  now 
dropped,  and,  De  Hillier  havin;?  been  assisted  into  his 
carriage,  which  was  in  waiting,  Delmaine,  Dormer,  the 
doctor,  and  O'Sullivan,  proceeded  to  their  own,  the 
latter  in  high  spirits,  and  evidently  delighted  at  the  re- 
putation likely  to  be  conferred  on  his  Mantons,  by  the 
termination  of  this  dispute. 

«  I  give  you  joy,  Mr.  Delmaine,"  he  exclaimed,  as 


FtT*"^-'*-"— > 


•■mr: 


^CART^. 


105 


soon  as  they  were  seated,  forgetting  all  former  pique  in 
his  unqualified  admiration  of  the  coolness  and  dexterity 
of  our  hero ;  "  and  thank  yourself  you  may,  that  you 
did  not  follow  my  advice  on  this  occasion,  since,  but  for 
that  same  metal  button,  ye  would  now  have  an  ounce  of 
lead  in  your  body  ;  yet,  sir,  after  all,  this  is  but  an  ac- 
cident, and  the  tight  silk  pantaloon  would  have  turned 
the  ball  as  readily  as  the  button  di<^." 

It  is  impossible  to  say  how  far  the  captain  would 
have  pursued  the  chain  of  this  his  favourite  theory,  had 
he  not  been  interrupted  by  Dehnaine,  who,  extending 
his  hand,  and  apologizing  for  the.  warmth  he  had  pre- 
viously evinced,  inquired  by  what  accident  he  had  been 
induced  to  follow  them,  when,  after  what  had  occurred, 
he  must  have  entertained  so  little  interest  in  the  result. 

Had  O' Sullivan  been  quite  candid  in  his  reply,  he 
would  have  confessed  two  principal  motives  in  addition 
to  that  he  now  assigned.  In  the  first  instance,  he  had 
been  urged  by  that  sort  of  instinctive  curiosity,  which  is 
peculiar  to  duellists  on  all  occasions  of  this  description  ; 
and  in  the  second,  the  strong  afiectibn  which  he  bore 
towards  his  beautiful  "  marking  irons,"  in  rendering  him 
doubtful  and  anxious  in  regard  to  their  final  appropria- 
tion, had  whispered  to  him  the  policy  of  his  being  near 
the  spot  to  secure  them  after  Delmaine's  fall,  for  of  such 
a  result  he  did  not  entertain  the  shadow  of  a  doubt. — 
Concealed  in  the  wood  to  which  he  had  cautiously  fol- 
lowed the  parties,  accompanied  by  the  friend  already 
mentioned,  he  had  an  opportunity  of  watching  the  se- 
veral movements  of  the  combatants,  without  the  least  risk 
of  discovery.  The  credit  of  his  pistols  he  now  felt  to 
be  utterly  at  stake,  as  the  reply  to  the  question,  which 
he  supposed  would  be  in  every  one's  mouth,  "  With 
whose  weapons  did  he  fight .'"'  must  be  "O' Sullivan's," 
of  course.  This  was  a  matter  of  no  trifling  importance 
to  the  captain,  who,  it  must  be  confessed,  repaired  to  the 
scene  of  action  with  feelings  less  interested  in  the  fate  of 
our  hero,  than  in  the  reputation  of  the  Mantons  he  was 
about  to  use,  which  must  be  praised  or  condemned  even 


11 


s  i    ' 


<t. 


rii 


106 


tCAJLTt. 


as  the  party  acquitted  himself.  Yet  subsequently,  when 
he  remarked  the  cool  bearin;^  of  Delmaine,  and  compa- 
red his  manner  with  that  of  De  Hillier,  he  began  to  enter- 
tain sentiments  of  a  more  favourable  nature ;  and 
sincerdy  regretted  that  one  so  intrepid,  and  yet  sotlefi- 
cient  in  skill,  should  be  exposed  to  an  aim  so  murderous 
as  that  of  the  comte.  But  when  he  saw  the  former 
calmly  devest  himself  of  his  clothes,  in  imitation  of  his 
adversary,  and  instantly  resume  his  position  in  a  style 
worthy  of  the  most  experienced  in  these  matters,  he  be- 
gan to  hope  for  a  different  result.  Nor  was  this  feeling 
at  all  diminished,  on  observing  the  steady  manner  ijn 
which  the  pistol  was  raised  in  the  direction  of  the  young 
man's  eye,  until  it  had  gained  its  proper  level.  During 
this  movement  his  heart  bounded  with  anxiety,  and  he 
listened  with  breathless  attention  for  the  report.  So 
great  was  his  satisfaction  and  surprise  at  beholding  De 
Hillier  the  instant  afterwards  weltering  in  his  blood,  that 
he  found  it  impossible  to  suppress  the  exclamation  which 
mingled  with  the  cry  of  disappointment,  uttered  by  the 
friends  of  the  opposite  party.  Heedless  of  form  or 
etiquette,  and  quite  forgetting  that  he  had  only  a  few 
minutes  previously  parted  from  our  hero  in  deep  mor- 
tification, he  had  afterwards  rushed  forward  to  congratu- 
late him  on  his  victory.  Such  were  the  real  motives  of 
the  captain's  presence; — to  these,  however,  he  had  the 
prudence  not  to  advert :  but  simply  contented  himself 
with  saying, 

"  Surely,  Mr.  Delmaine,  you  could  not  imagine  that 
for  such  a  foolish  circumstance  as  that,  I  should  have 
ceased  to  feel  an  interest  in  this  affair,  even  indepen- 
dently of  your  being  a  cousin  of  Harry  Wilmot.  Thank 
Heaven,  you  have  revenged  his  death,  at  last,"  he  add- 
ed, taking  up  the  pistols,  and  looking  at  that  which 
had  beeii  discharged,  with  nearly  the  same  expression 
of  fondness  with  which  a  mother  would  regard  a  favourite 
child.  ''  I  am  glad,  however,  that  his  wound  is  not  mor- 
tal ;  for  the  man  has  some  interest,  and  the  police  arc 
rather  apt  to  meddle  in  these  matters.    Six  months  con- 


.*.^.--':^ 


"Ifp^  • 


]gCART]g. 


107 


finement  to  his  bed  will  do  him  much  good«  and  he  will 
know  in  future  what  it  is  to  insult  a  gentleman  of  the 
United  Kingdom.  This  little  jewel,"  he  concluded,  in 
an  under  tone,  "  has  done  its  duty,  and  from  this  day 
it  shall  be  called  the  '  Count,'  in  contradistinction  to  its 
feUow." 

We  know  not  how  far,  or  how  long,  O' Sullivan  would 
have  pursued  this  new  train  of  reflection,  had  he  not 
been  interrupted  by  the  surgeon  exclaiming,  *'  Here  we 
are  at  length."  The  party  were  now  turning  from  the 
Rue  de  Rivoli  into  the  Rue  Castiglione,  when  Del- 
maine  proposed  to  Dormer,  that  as  he  had  quite  reco- 
vered the  effect  of  the  contusion,  they  should  alight  and 
walk  to  Meurice's,  in  order  to  prevent  any  suspicion 
being  entertained  by  their  appearing  at  the  hotel  in  a 
carriage  at  that  early  hour  of  the  morning.  This  plan 
was  adopted,  and,  leaving  O*  Sullivan  and  the  surgeon 
to  continue  their  way  home,  the  friends  once  more  re- 
paired to  the  Rue  St.  Honore.      >^.  vv,-i-,,:^^  rjfeaiRfeiS 

On  entering  the  breakfast  room,  they  were  not  a  little 
surprised  to  find  the  whole  party  assembled,  and  with  an 
expression  of  anxiety  upon  their  countenances.  The 
state  of  tiieir  toilette,  moreover,  announced  some  unusual 
degree  of  haste.  A  loose  morning  dress  slightly  enve- 
loped the  form  of  Miss  Stanley,  while  her  full  dark  hair 
was  but  imperfectly  confined  by  a  cap,  which,  not  having 
been  disposed  according  to  the  strict  rules  of  female  art 
on  these  occasions,  disclosed  a  more  than  ordinary  quan- 
tity of  luxuriant  curls.  Sir  Edward  also  had,  contrary 
to  his  usual  custom,  forgotten  the  operation  of  shaving ; 
and  the  absence  of  the  voluminous  bandages  which  in- 
variably encircled  his  gouty  leg,  was  an  evidence  that 
some  mental  suffering  had  entirely  superseded  or  render- 
ed him  insensible  to  the  influence  of  physical  pain.  The 
colonel  alone,  true  to  his  military  habits,  appeared  dress- 
ed for  the  morning ;  but  even  he  had  not,  on  this  occa- 
sion, observed  his  usubI  proprete.  The  knot  of  his  black 
silk  cravat  was  more  negligently  tied,  and,  for  the  first 
time,  perhaps,  for  the  last  twenty  years,  the  straps  which 


■'  I 


108 


i£cart£. 


were  wont  to  cbnfine  his  trowsers  to  their  proper  po- 
tion  over  the  boot,  had  been  disregarded.  The  break* 
fast  table  bore  every  83nnptom  of  an  unusually  copious 
Mjeuner  a  la  fourchette;  and  near  the  fire-place,  where 
Sir  Edward  sat  in  thoughtful  silence,  several  cover- 
ed dishes  were  carefully  arranged.  The  appearance 
of  Delmaine  and  his  friend  caused  a  complete  re- 
volution in  the  air  and  movements  of  the  little  party. 
The  colonel,  who  had  been  pacing  the  room  with  a 
clouded  brow  and  folded  arms,  now  suddenly  stopped, 
and  examining  our  hero  from  head  to  foot,  at  a  single 
glance,  sufiered  a  gleam  of  satisfaction  to  animate  his  fea- 
tures. Miss  Stanley,  who  the  instant  before  had  been 
sitting  at  the  breakfast  table,  with  a  face  nearly  as  white 
as  the  dress  she  wore,  and  apparently  deeply  engaged  in 
a  work  which  proved  to  be  "  Les  Lettres  de  Pascal," 
suddenly  threw  down  the  book,  from  the  perusal  of 
which  she  had,  no  doubt,  derived  much  information, 
although  she  never  could,  at  a  subsequent  period,  re- 
collect of  what  nature.  Rising  rather  awkwardly,  while 
a  flush  of  pleasure  passed  rapidly  over  her  countenance, 
she  now  overturned  and  broke  one  or  two  of  Monsieur 
Meurice's  very  handsome  Sevres  coflee-cups.  Sir  Ed- 
ward, too,  aroused  from  his  reverie,  made  a  movement 
to  gain  an  upright  position,  but  his  gouty  foot  coming 
unfortunately  in  contact  with  one  of  the  before-mention- 
ed dishes,  scattering  its  contents  into  the  fire-place,  the 
violence  of  the  pain   compelled   him  to   resume   his 


seat. 


;:Si:%^;^*j-''i '«'.■'!•■  ^-; 


-■*'X-' 


The  simple  mother,  who  beholds  her  wayward  child 
incurring  the  hazard  of  destruction,  either  beneath  the 
wheels  of  a  carriage,  or  on  the  brink  of  a  precipice,  be- 
comes, for  a  moment,  nearly  frantic  with  the  excess  of 
her  fear,  and  the  instinctive  fondness  of  her  nature  is 
increased  tenfold.  No  sooner,  however,  is  the  danger 
passed,  than,  as  if  to  indemnify  herself  for  the  anguish 
she  has  been  compelled  to  endure,  she  mercilessly  pu- 
nishes that  child  over  which  an  instant  before  she  was 
prepared  to  shed  tears  of  bitterness,  in  all  the  heart-rend- 


ing aj 

a  vie\ 

simila 

involi 

her  fe 

audfc 

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out  h 

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his  c 

fault 


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earh 

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■'  -f 


ISCARTlfi. 


109 


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m 


uig  agon;-  of  despair.  Nor  is  this  done  so  much  with 
a  view  to  deter  the  young  offender  from  running  into 
similar  dangers,  as  to  gratify  a  momentary  and  ahnost 
involuntary  impulse.  When  the  culprit  is  well  beaten^ 
her  feelings  are,  as  it  were,  relieved,  and  then  she  loves 
and  fondles  it  more  than  ever. 

It  was  with  something  of  this  sort  of  feeling,  increa- 
sed, perhaps,  by  the  violent  twinges  which  ran  through- 
out his  limb,  that  Sir  Edward,  who  really  loved  his 
nephew,  and  had,  in  fact,  been  diinking  of  him  for  the 
last  half  hour,  recalling  all  the  more  excellent  traits  in 
his  character,  and  willingly  losing  sight  of  those  of  a 
faulty  nature,  now  accosted  our  hero  on  his  entrance. 

"  Pray,  sir,  may  I  take  the  liberty  of  inquiring 
where  you  come  from,  and  where  you  have  been,  at  this 
early  hour  of  the  morning.  I  was  not  aware  that  it  was 
your  usual  practice  to  rise  by  star-Ught,  and  indulge  in 
sentimental  morning  walks.  I  suppose  you  find  the 
Paris  air  too  pure  to  continue  in  bed  until  twelve  o'clock, 
as  you  have  always  been  in  the  habit  of  doing  in 
London  ?" 

Our  hero  was  quite  unprepared  for  this  half-angry, 
half-sarcastic  sally,  and  he  felt  somewhat  confused ;  fo|: 
not  only  the  eyes  of  his  uncle,  but  those  of  the  colonel, 
and  even  a  third  and  more  expressive  pair,  were  turned 
upon  him  at  the  same  moment,  and  he  almost  feared 
that  his  secret  had  been  discovered.  An  instant's  reflec- 
tion was  sufficient  to  convince  him  that  this  must  be 
impossible ;  he  therefore  affected  to  reply,  in  a  tone  of 
indifference,  "  Dormer  and  I  have  merely  been  taking 
nn  airing  in  the  Bois  de  Boulogne,  sir." 

Our  hero  was,  however,  but  a  noviqe  at  evasion,  al- 
though he  thought  it  both  prudent  and  proper  to  attempt 
it  in  the  present  instance,  and  the  tone  and  manner  of 
[lis  observation  gave  the  1-i-e  positive  to  his  words. 

"  Humph !"  muttered  the  baronet.  Then,  after  a 
pause,  and  taking  a  letter  from  his  pocket — "  Does  this 
letter  then,  sir,  imply  no  other  motive  for  your  early 
rising,  than  a  mere  airimg  in  the  Bois  de  Boulogne  f " 

VOL.  I.  10 


4 


i 


i 


^m'.-rrr.riK.:: 


^-»-*»'5ii^gjjyv^ 


no 


^  ^CARTl^. 


r 


Delitiaine  glanced  at  the  paper,  which  his  uncle  half 
extended  towards  him,  and,  much  to  his  surprise  and 
mortification,  recognised  the  letter  he  had  written  the 
preceding  night,  and  which  it  had  been  his  intention  to 
intrust  to  Dormer,  for  Sir  Edward,  only  in  tl^  event  of 
his  fall.  In  the  hurry  of  departure,  he  had  entirely  over- 
looked it  on  his  dressing-table,  where  it  had  been  found 
foy  one  of  the  domestics. 

Deeming  it  useless  to  conceal  the  real  motive  of  his 
absence  any  longer,  and  unwilling  to  play  the  part  of 
advocate  in  his  own  cause,  our  hero  now  turned  to  his 
friend,  and  requested  him  to  enter  into  the  particulars  of 
the  affair,  while  he  retired  to  change  his  dress. 

This  task  was  cheerfully  undertaken  by  Dormer,  who 
now  entered  into  a  circumstantial  detail  of  the  several 
occurrences,  from  the  moment  of  the  insult  offered  by 
De  Hillier  to  Miss  Stanley  on  the  preceding  day,  up  to 
that  of  the  termination  of  the  duel  to  which  it  had  given 
rise  ;  and  in  the  course  of  his  disclosure  he  so  contrived 
to  interest  all  parties  in  favour  of  his  friend,  that  when 
Delmeune  re-appeared,  looking  somewhat  silly  under  the 
consciousness  of  having  been  detected  in  telling  a  down- 
right falsehood,  with  an  air  of  the  greatest  possible  can- 
dour, all  eyes  were  turned  upon  him  with  a  look  of 
undissembled  interest.  There  was  only  one  fact  con- 
cealed by  Dormer,  and  that  was  the  contusion  Clifford 
had  received  from  his  adversary's  ball,  nor  was  this 
reservation  without  its  proper  motive.  He  had,  on  en- 
tering the  room,  remarked  the  sudden  change  in  Miss 
Stanley's  countenance ;  and  his  own  experience  was 
sufficient  to  satisfy  him  that  such  a  revulsion  was  not 
usually  produced  on  the  mind  of  an  indifferent  person : 
neither  was  he  unobservant  of  the  increasing  interest 
with  which  she  listened  to  his  detail.  When  he  alluded 
to  the  ferocity  of  nature  attributed  to  the  comte,  and  to 
the  consummate  skill  in  duelling  for  which  he  was  re- 
markable, he  saw  her  shudder  and  turn  pale,  though  her 
eyes  were  bent  upon  the  book  we  have  ahready  mention- 
ed ;  but  when  be  commented  on  the  coohiess  and  coti- 


4;;" 


:■•/' 


.%• 


W  X 


■'iW 


£CART^. 


Ill 


lair 
Jind 
Ithe 
to 
of 
rer- 
md 


rage  opposedtiy  our  hero  to  the  ungentlemanly  bravado 
and  insulting  warmth  of  his  adversary,  her  features 
seemed  to  be  lighted  up  with  a  feeling  of  gratified  pride, 
and  her  eyes  sparkled  with  unusual  brilliancy.  Then 
when  he  described  Lord  Hervey  as  giving  the  fatal  sig- 
nal, he  remarked  that  the  blood  again  receded  from  her 
cheek,  while  the  quick  and  visible  heavings  of  her  bo- 
som,  attested  the  anxiety  with  which  she  awaited  the 
result.  Loving  the  fair  being  before  him  as  a  sister, 
and  esteeming  her  for  the  numerous  qualities  of  mind 
with  which  he  was  of  course  much  more  familiar  than 
his  friend.  Dormer  could  not  endure  the  idea  of  convey- 
ing pain  to  her,  by  naming  even  the  slight  injury  which 
Delmaine  had  sustained ;  and  in  this  he  felt  justified,  as 
our  hero  had  declared  himself  to  be  perfectly  recovered 
from  its  effects.  When  he  described  the  wound  of  De 
Hillier,  she  shuddered  with  a  kind  of  instinctive  horror; 
but  this  feeling  speedily  subsided,  as  she  reflected  on  the 
character  of  the  man,  and  the  many  and  unprovoked 
insults  which  had  compelled  our  hero  to  shed  the  blood 
of  a  fellow  creature. 

"  Mr.  Delmaine,"  sud  the  colonel,  advancing  to  meet 
him  as  he  entered,  and  pressing  his  hand  with  warmth, 
"  accept  my  thanks  for  the  interest  you  have  taken  in 
my  beloved  daughter ; — an  interest  which,  from  all  I 
can  understand  in  regard  to  your  enemy,  might  have 
cost  you  your  life.  It  should  have  been  the  task  of  her 
father  to  punish  any  insult  offered  to  my  Helen ;  but 
since  you  have  nobly  anticipated  me,  your  claim  upon 
our  mutual  gratitude  must  be  great  and  lasting." 

Alas !  we  tremble  for  our  hero.  Had  he  been  as  can- 
did and  as  sincere  as  every  hero  ought  to  be,  he  would 
have  confessed  what  we  all  know — that  the  language  of 
De  Hillier,  applied  more  particularly  to  himself,  had  no 
trifling  weight  in  calling  forth  his  dormant  and  pug)- 
nacious  instincts;  but  who,  in  his  position,  would  have 
failed  to  lay  claim  to  every  possible  credit !  who  would 
have  sought  to  dissipate  an  error,  which,  injuring  no 
one,  was  yet  so  fraught  with  pleasurable  congratulation 


f 


112 


l^GART^. 


to  himself?  Had  even  a  spark  of  doubt  lingered  in  his 
mind,  it  would  have  been  dissipated  by  the  sight  of  one 
object  in  that  apartment.  Helen  Stanley,  who  presided 
at  the  breakfast  table,  was  now  busied  in  pouring  out 
the  tea,  an  occupation  in  which  she  succeeded  tolerably 
well,  until  the  moment  when  her  father  alluded  to  his 
claim  on  their  lasting  gratitude;  then  indeed  her  hand 
trembled  violently,  and  notwithstanding  all  her  efforts 
to  confine  it  to  its  proper  direction,  the  smoking  liquid 
shared  its  favours  equally  between  cups  and  saucers. 
Raising  her  dark  eyes  for  an  instant,  while  an  expres- 
sion of  the  most  feminine  soilness  lingered  on  her  fea- 
tures, they  encountered  those  of  our  hero,  and  were  as 
speedily  lowered  beneath  his  gaze.  The  heart  of  Del- 
maine  swelled  with  a  thousand  new  and  various  emo- 
tions; and  if  he  had  not  honesty  enough  to  confess  the 
truth,  the  whole  truth,  and  nothing  but  the  truth,  in  re- 
gard to  this  affair,  it  was  because  he  wanted  courage  to 
forego  his  claims,  however  umerited,  to  that  favour 
which  he  believed  to  be  the  result  of  his  supposed  exclu- 
sive interest  in  her  behalf. 

As  he  could  not  therefore  conscientiously  assume  all 
the  credit  to  himself  which  his  friends  were  inclined  to 
award,  he  resolved  at  least  to  say  nothing  which  could 
have  a  tendency  to  weaken  the  existing  impressions; 
and  indeed  it  must  be  admitted,  that  he  now  seriously 
wished  that  no  feeling  of  a  personal  nature  had  been 
mixed  up  with  the  resolution  he  had  adopted,  from  the 
first  moment,  to  chastise  the  insolent  Frenchman.  Un- 
der all  circumstances  of  the  case,  he  felt  himself  justified 
in  replying,  though  somewhat  equivocally, 

"  I  shall  ever  feel  the  sincerest  gratification,  Colonel, 
in  Ae  possession  of  your  friendship  and  esteem;  but  as 
f(Nr  gratitude,  it  is  entirely  out  of  the  question  in  the 
present  instance.  I  only  did  that  which  any  other  gen- 
tleman would  have  done  under  similar  provocation."  - 

The  party  now  drew  near  the  breakfast  table,  where 
our  hero,  having  regained  a  little  confidence^  and  no 
longer  reading  any  very  great  marks  of  displeasure  on 


tCkKTt. 


113 


the  brow  of  Sir  Edward,  was  not  slow  in  following  the 
example  of  his  friend,  who,  by  his  frequent  appeals  to 
the  rognons  au  vin  de  champagncj  filets  sauieSf  and 
several  other  equally  succulent  dishes,  gave  sufficient 
evidence  of  the  sharpness  of  appetite  which  may  be  ac- 
quired in  the  course  of  a  Bois  de  Boulogne  airing  at 
seven  in  the  morning. 

Had  an  indifferent  person  been  allowed  an  oppor- 
tunity of  observing  our  hero  during  the  succeeding  part 
of  the  morning,  he  would  have  found  no  little  difficulty 
In  identifying  the  gay  and  animated  being  before  him 
with  the  individual  who,  a  few  hours  previously,  had 
raised  his  arm  in  all  the  deliberation  of  deadly  hostility 
against  his  fellow  man.  Scarcely  would  he  have  be- 
lieved, that  while  the  noblest  feelings  of  the  human  heart 
beamed  from  the  full  and  expressive  eyes  of  that  indivi- 
dual, the  groans  of  one  who  had  fallen  by  his  hand, 
were,  even  at  the  distance  of  a  few  hundred  yards,  611- 
ing  those  by  whom  his  couch  of  suffering  was  surround- 
ed, with  grief  and  consternation — ^yet  this  was  the  case, 
and  this  is  man.  "    .  vA  ,  ^' 

We  presume  that  our  anxious  readers  are  curious  to 
know  by  what  means  the  non-combatant  portion  of  our 
friends  obtained  the  information  which  induced  their 
unusually  early  desertion  of  their  respective  beds.  As 
this  is  a  point  of  nearly  as  much  importance,  as  the  pre- 
sent political  question,  *'  are  the  Catholics  to  have 
emancipation,  or  are  they  not!"'  we  shall  endeavour  to 
explain.  We  have  already  remarked  that  the  porter's 
curiosity  was  not  a  little  excited  in  regard  to  the  possible 
motives  for  our  hero's  early  exit  through  the  ponderous 
gates  which  he  guarded  with  all  the  fidelity  of  a  second 
Cerberus ;  and  when  Sir  Edward's  valet  made  hb  ap- 
pearance in  the  loge  an  hour  later,  he  communicated  the 
fact  to  him,  with  an  air  of  much  mystery  and  importance. 
Now  this  same  valet  had  already  formed  a  travelling 
acquaintance  with  Miss  Stanley's  maid,  and  to  her  he 
repeated  the  mystery  "of  Delmaine's  singularly  early 
departure,  no  one  knew  whither^  but  under  an  injunc* 

IQ* 


f 


*. 


i.-rijj?:",.  .;■  ■%*■>  .„■ 


^.y^i^^^^. 


114 


tCARlt, 


tion  of  the  strictest  secrecy.  Miss  Stanley,  like  our 
hero,  had  enjoyed  dreams  of  a  very  pleasing  nature  ; 
and  thouffh,  unlike  him,  she  had  no  daylight  appoint- 
ments to  keep,  she  awoke  at  an  early  hour,  and  after 
one  or  two  ineffectual  attempts  to  renew  those  pleasing 
dreams,  she  determined  on  ringing  for  her  servant.  In 
a  few  minutes  Harris  appeared,  and,  with  a  countenance 
big  with  some  important  secret,  proceeded  to  the  dis- 
charge of  her  customary  duties.  For  ten  long  minuets 
she  contrived  to  keep  down  the  communication  which 
was  every  moment  rising  to  her  lips ;  but  longer  conceal- 
ment was  beyond  her  strength,  for  she  felt  the  secret 
literally  gnawing  at  her  vitals. 

"  What  do  you  think,  ma'am,"  at  length  burst  abrupt- 
ly from  her  labouring  bosom,  "  young  Mr.  Delmame 
went  out  this  morning  before  daybreak,  and  nobody 
knows  where." 

"  Arc  you  certain,  Harris,  that  this  is  the  case  ?"  in- 
quired her  mistress  anxiously,  all  the  occurrences  of  the 
preceding  day  rushing  fearfully  on  her  memory,  and 
converting  surmise  into  almost  certainty. 

*'  Quite  certain,  ma'am,"  returned  the  officious  wait- 
ing woman.  "  Sir  Edward's  valet  had  it  from  the  por- 
ter himself,  who  let  him  out.  He  says  also,  that  he 
h{)d  privately  given  instructions  last  night  to  be  called 
at  five  in  the  morning." 

Miss  Stanley  now  felt  fully  satisfied  that  she  had  been 
deceived  in  regard  to  the  affected  indifference  manifest- 
ed by  our  hero  for  his  enemy,  and  she  shuddered  to 
think  of  the  consequences  which  might  ensub,  and  of 
which  she  was  in  some  measure,  however  innocently,  the 
cause.  Finishing  her  toilet  in  the  hasty  manner  above 
described,  she  despatched  Harris  to  the  apartment  of  her 
father,  with  a  request  that  he  would  see  her  immediately 
in  the  breakfast  room.  Taking  her  cue  from  the  anxiety 
and  hurry  evinced  by  her  mistress,  Hams  instantly  de- 
cided, in  her  own  mind,  that  Mr.  Delmaine  had  gone 
out  to  fight  a  duel  ;*and  having  succeeded  in  awwen- 
ing  the  colonel,  she  thought  she  might  take  it  upon 


h 
ii 


f  > 


^cart£. 


herself  to  announce^perhapi  with  a  view  to  itimulatc 
his  movementi — that  aomething  very  dreadAil  had  hap- 
pened, which  rendered  it  necessary  he  should  see  IV1i»'' 
Stanley  immediately. 

*<  What  is  it,  woman  f  what  has  happened  V*  exclaim- 
ed the  colonel,  starting  fVom  his  bed,  and  hastening  tv 
prepare  himself  for  the  interview  desired. 

But  the  woman  answered  not,  for  she  was  already 
embarked  on  a  second  expedition.  Harris,  like  many  «»• 
other  and  higher  deputies,  now  that  she  felt  the  impor- 
tance of  her  delegation,  fancied  that  she  was  Aillv  Justi- 
fied in  exceeding  the  letter  of  her  instructions.  Hasten- 
ing, therefore,  to  Sir  Edward's  room,  she  knocked  at  th»* 
door  with  a  violence  that  almost  threatened  its  demolition . 

"  Who  is  there  ?"  muttered  the  baronet,  awakening^  ' 
from  his  first  sleep,  which  had  commenced  about  foui- 
o'clock  in  the  morning. 

"It  is  me,  sir,"  replied  Harris,  boldly,  and  In  the 
tone  of  one  who  feels  that  the  interruption  is  one  of  mo- 
ment to  the  party  interrupted. 

<*  And  who  is  me  f"  inquired  Sir  Edward,  unable  to 
recognise  the  voice,  which,  however,  he  had  no  difficul- 
ty in  ascertaining  to  be  that  of  a  female. 

"  It  is  me,  Harris,  Miss  Stanley's  maid,  sir ;  I  am 
come  to  tell  you  that  young  Mr.  Delmaine  is  gone  out 
to  fight  a  duel." 

"  Gone  out  to  fight  a  duel !"  cried  Sir  Edward,  start- 
led as  if  a  thunderbolt  had  sounded  in  his  ears,  **  im- 
possible !"  But  even  while  his  lips  pronounced  such 
an  event  to  be  impossible,  his  heart  acknowledged  a 
contrary  impression ;  and  dressing  himself  with  an  ex- 
pedition that  would  have  excited  his  utmost  surprise  at 
any  other  moment,  and  without  once  ringing  for  hi> 
servant  to  assist  in  the  operation,  he  appeared  in  the 
breakfast  room  almost  as  soon  as  the  colonel  and  Miss 
Stanley.  The  latter  now  entered  into  a  detail  of  the 
circumstances  which  had  occurred  on  the  preceding  day. 
near  the  jeweller's,  when  it  was  at  once  decided  that  a 
meeting  had  been  the  result 


I 
1 


vfe 


J»! 


1 


\v 


116 


^CART^. 


^^ 


All  doubt  on  the  subject  was  soon  at  an  end.  The 
curiosity  of  Harris  had  been  raised  to  the  highest  possi- 
ble pitch,  and  she  felt  a  certain  degree  of  importance  in 
having  been  the  means,  even  though  a  secondary  one, 
of  conveying  this  intelligence  to  those  so  every  way  in- 
terested in  the  affair.  Harris  had,  in  her  younger  days, 
been  a  great  reader  of  romances,  and  she  recollected 
that  it  was  customary  with  heroes  and  heroines,  when 
absenting  themselves  without  permission,  to  leave  some 
written  document,  explanatory  of  their  motives,  behind 
them.  It  now  occurred  to  her,  that  if  she  could  find 
her  way  to  Mr.  Delmune's  bed-room,  she  would  pro- 
bably meet  with  some  paper  of  this  description ;  and  she 
imagined  that  on  such  an  occasion,  it  would  not  be  a  very 
great  sin  to  enter  a  single  gentleman's  sleeping  apartment. 
"Screwing  her  courage  to  the  sticking  place,"  shf 
therefore  boldly  entered,  and  almost  the  first  thing  that 
met  her  inquiring  eye,  was  the  letter,  sealed  and  direct- 
ed to  Sir  Edward,  which  lay  on  the  dressing  table. 
Seizing  the  prize,  she  bolted  again  from  the  room,  as  if 
the  ghost  of  Delmaine  had  pursued  her,  and  hastening 
to  Sir  Edward,  handed  it  to  him.  , 

The  old  baronet  broke  the  seal  with  eagerness,  and 
rather  devoured  than  read  its  contents  ;  while  the  vary- 
ing expression  of  his  countenance  betrayed  to  his  friends 
the  several  passages  which  more  or  less  displeased  and 
vexed  him. 

"  Humph !  it  is  but  too  true,"  he  at  length  exclaim- 
ed, folding  the  memento  impatiently,  and  placing  it  in 
his  pocket.  "  He  says  he  has  gone  out  to  fight  a  duel, 
but  with  whom,  or  on  what  account,  he  does  not  state. 
The  rest  of  his  letter  contains  nothing  more  than  hypo- 
critical professions  of  tender  afiection  and  gratitude,  and 
canting  acknowledgments  for  what  he  calls  my  uniform 
kindness  towards  him — all  stuff*!  Pretty  affection,  and 
pretty  gratitude,  truly,  and  a  pretty  way  of  evincing  it, 
by  killing  me  with  anxiety  and  fears  for  his  safety !  But 
what  is  to  be  done,  Colonel — ^what  measures  are  to  Df 
adapted  ?  or  is  it  too  late  to  interfere  f " 


tCAKTt. 


117 


ssi- 

in 

■>ne, 

in- 


And  the  eyes  of  Helen  asked  precisely  the  same  ques- 
tions ;  but  the  colonel  had  now  become  less  familiai' 
with  the  language  of  the  eyes,  than  with  that  of  the  lips, 
and  he  replied,  with  the  true  dignity  and  feeling  of  the 
soldier, 

"  My  dear  friend,  we  must  have  patience,  and  await 
the  result.  Nothing  can  be  done  to  prevent  this  affair 
taking  place,  without  compromising  your  nephew's  cha- 
racter for  courage ;  and  even  if  any  thing  could  be  done, 
it  is  now  to  late.  They  were  to  meet  at  seven  o'clock, 
and  it  now  wants  but  a  quarter  to  eight ;  besides,  all 
who  go  out  on  these  occasions  do  not  fall.  Let  us, 
therefore,  await  the  termination  of  the  affair  with  pa- 
tience." 

"  Patience !"  exclaimed  the  good  old  baronet,  petu- 
lantly. "  It  is  well  for  you,  Stanley,  to  talk  of  paUeoce, 
who  have  no  nephew's  existence  at  stake ;  but  I  cannot 
be  cool  or  patient  under  my  present  feelings.  Clifford 
is  the  son  of  the  brother  of  my  affection ;  he  has  lived 
with  me  from  infancy,  and  to  lose  him  now  would  break 
my  heart." 

**  But  you  will  not  lose  him,"  returned  the  colonel, 
with  an  air  of  confidaice ;  *'  at  least  let  us  hope  not. 
If  I  might  advise,"  he  continued,  smiling,  *'  it  would  be 
no  bad  policy  to  have  a  substantial  breakfast  in  readi- 
ness ;  for  as  by  your  letter  it  appears  they  were  to  meet 
at  seven,  i»  very  probable  that  he  and  Dormer,  by 
whom  I  presume  he  is  accompanied,  will  be  here  almost 
immediately.  It  would  be  a  pity  to  keep  them  waiting, 
for  I  know  by  experience  that  sharp  morning  air,  and 
the  smell  of  gunpowder,  are  great  provocatives  of  appe- 
tite." 

The  colonel's  object  was  to  divert  Sir  Edward's 
thoughts,  and  he  succeeded;  for  no  sooner  had  the 
worthy  baronet  admitted  the  possibility  of  his  nephew's 
return,  not  faint  from  loss  of  blood,  as  he  had  been  busy 
in  anticipating,  but  faint  from  excess  of  hunger,  than 
he  desired  some  half  dozen  dishes  to  be  brought  in  and 
placed  near  the  fire,  in  readiness  to  sustain  an  immediate 


1 


i 


:i 


n 


>i5 


*: 


'»\. 


-■■■  / 


118 


liCARTE. 


I 


.  assault.  This  point  settled,  the  party  had  relapsed  into 
that  state  of  abstraction  and  silent  communion  with  their 
own  feelings,  which  had  been  interrupted,  as  above  sta~ 
ted,  by  the  appearance  of  the  guilty  party  himself. 


.*.>>'     ::>:■ 


-J.^'X'H 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


.;fe;- 


t 


\\  ^ 


It  was  a  beautiful  morning  in  September ;  the  rich 
tints  of  the  autumnal  leaf  shone  in  mellowed  beauty  be- 
neath the  rays  of  a  meridian  sun,  and  the  golden  flicker- 
ing atmosphere  seemed  to  impart  its  own  softness  to  all 
of  animate  and  inanimate  nature.  The  gay  edifices  of 
Paris  appeared  to  rise  more  lofty  in  the  hazy  distance, 
and  the  tolling  of  numerous  bells  was  borne  more  dis- 
tinctly on  the  ear  ;  the  city  seemed  to  have  poured  forth 
her  inhabitants,  as  for  a  jubilee  ;  and  one  continuous 
crowd  of  both  sexes  extended  from  the  palace  of  the 
Tuileries,  and  through  the  streets  of  Rivoli,  and  de  la 
Paix,  to  the  Boulevard  des  Capucins.  Here,  swollen 
with  the  tides  which  rushed  in  from  every  side  as  to  one 
common  centre,  the  dense  and  stationary  masses  were 
blocked  up  without  a  possibility  of  movement.  From 
thence  the  anxious  people  were  thronged  along  the  vast 
line  of  avenue  conducting  to  the  Porte  St.  Denis,  and 
through  the  Faubourg  of  that  name  to  the  spacious  plain 
that  opens  beyond  the  barrier.  Here  the  great  body  of 
the  population  was  assembled,  and  as  far  as  the  eye  could 
reach  on  either  hand,  and  extending  to  the  distant  town 
of  St.  Denis,  the  spires  of  whose  churches  glittered  on 
high,  amid  that  golden  atmosphere,  like  beacons  of  hal> 
lowed  light,  a  confused  mass  of  carriages  of  every  de- 
scription, of  horsemen,  and  of  pedestrians,  was  discernl- 
})le.  In  the  Faubourg,  and  throughout  the  plain,  the 
crowd  was  divided  by  a  corps  of  infantry,  whose  officf^ 


-'*jt,-. 


-♦ ...  ^,^..f».« ..-.., ,.. 


:--fc^- 


M' 


12CARTE. 


119 


<rfi(^- 


U  was  to  preserve  unencumbered  a  space  appropriated 
to  the  movements  of  what  all  felt  to  be  the  objects  of 
their  attraction  and  curiosity. 

Along  the  Boulevards,  and  in  the  streets,  that  duty 
was  performed  by  mounted  gendarmerie^  whose  mettled 
chargers  were  made  to  prance  along  the  line,  now  threat- 
ening the  pretty  foot  of  some  Parisian  belle  with  the 
rude  hoof,  as  she  exceeded  the  boundary  prescribed, 
now  lashing  the  long  tail  beneath  her  bonnet,  and  pro- 
ducing a  scream  which,  in  the  next  instant,  was  chased 
by  the  forced  laugh  that  sprung  at  once  from  a  con- 
sciousness of  security,  and  a  dread  of  ridicule.  Some- 
times, on  these  occasions,  an  ancien  militairey  on  whose 
arm  reclined  a  sister,  a  mistress,  or  a  friend,  with  no 
other  distinctive  marks  of  his  profession  than  his  fierce 
look  and  enormous  mustachio,  would  curl  the  latter  as  if 
in  defiance  of  the  offender  whom  he  seemed  to  dare  to  a 
repetition  of  the  act ;  but  more  frequently  the  light- 
hearted  citizens,  treating  the  thing  with  levity,  were 
rather  disposed  to  admire  the  dexterity  of  the  cavalier, 
and  the  prancing  movements  of  his  horse,  than  to  con- 
demn the  performance  of  a  duty  that  had  been  strictly 
enjoined.  Gayety  beamed  from  every  countenance ; 
light  repartee  flew  from  one  to  another  amid  the  several 
groups  ;  and  that  seeming  indifference  to,  and  forget- 
t  uluess  of  all  subjects  unconnected  with  the  gratification 
of  the  present  moment,  was  never  more  observable  than 
on  the  present  occasion.  ^  .^^' 

But  though  the  eye  lingered  not  unpleasingly  along 
the  line  of  fair  forms  and  joyous  countenances  which 
thronged  the  streets  and  Boulevards,  it  turned  with  an 
expression  of  deeper  interest  towards  the  tall  masses  of 
Ijuildings  which  rose  on  either  hand.  At  every  window 
uf  every  departn^ent  of  these,  numbers  of  beautiful  and 
elegantly  dressed  women  were  to  be  seen,  awaiting  some 
momentarily  expected  pageantry,  with  an  impatience 
not  inferior  to  that  manifested  by  the  groups  below.  A 
stranger  who  could  have  forgotten  the  changes  operated 
within  the  few  preceeding  years,  might  have  been  incli- 


I 


^jmwBMiMiiMiMiwmi  m»»\  i»t« 


I 


^' 


\- 


if 


J !'     \ 


iSO 


l^CART^. 


ned  to  believe  that  the  population  of  Paris  were  then  met 
to  receive  Napoleon  on  his  return  from  one  of  those 
numerous  conquests  which  have  identified  his  name  with 
immortality  ;  or  that  the  nuptials  of  some  favourite 
prince  or  princess  were  then  celebrating.  But  neither 
the  triumphal  entry  of  a  successful  and  warlike  chief, 
nor  the  joyous  ceremony  of  a  royal  wedding,  was  the 
spectacle  which  anxious  thousands  were  assembled  to 
behold.  It  was  the  funeral  of  their  king,  Pleased 
with  public  exhibitions  of  every  description,  with  this 
light  and  frivolous  people,  a  triumph,  a  fete,  or  a  funeral, 
were  alike  matters  of  excitement ;  the  same  gayety  of 
deportment  being  evinced,  and  the  same  absence  of  all 
other  sentiment,  than  the  absorbing  one  of  curiosity. — 
But  though  unimpressed  by  the  solemnity  of  manner 
fitted  to  such  occasions,  the  natural  liveliness  of  theii- 
character  was  restrained  within  the  just  bounds  of  de- 
corum ;  and  while  but  few  amid  those  congregated 
thousands,  comprising  the  very  lowest  classes  of  society, 
suffered  their  countenances  to  wear  the  semblance  of  u 
grief  which  they  did  not  feel,  no  unbecoming  interrup- 
tions were  offered,  no  vociferous  or  insulting  exclama- 
tions were  uttered  ;  but  each,  with  that  sort  of  tact  which 
is  almost  peculiarly  French,  seemed  fully  sensible  of  the 
due  limit  which  should  be  set  to  the  indulgence  of  his 
natural  gayety.  For  upwards  of  two  hours  they  had 
waited  decorously,  though  not  without  impatience,  for 
the  signal  which  was  to  announce  the  departure  of  the 
coTtlge  from  the  palace. 

At  length  the  cannon  began  to  peal  at  intervals 
throughout  the  heavy  atmosphere,  and,  as  if  by  one 
common  and  simultaneous  instinct,  all  necks  and  heads 
were  stretched  in  the  direction  by  which  it  was  to  ad- 
vance. £ven  the  vast  throngs  assembled  on  the  plain 
of  St.  Dennis,  although  conscious  that  much  time  must 
elapse  before  it  could  appear  in  sight,  turned  their  eyes 
in  the  same  quarter.  Preceded  by  a  corps  of  the  gen- 
darmerie  d^elite,  the  procession  now  turned  the  Rue  de 
Rivoli,  and  crossing  the  Place  Vendome,  entered  into 


,c. 


ECARTE. 


121 


then  met 
of  those 
une  with 
avourite 
:  neither 
te  chief, 
was  the 
nbled  to 
Pleased 
vith  this 
I  funeral, 
^ayety  ol' 
ice  of  all 
iosity. — 
manner 
of  their 
s  of  de- 
^regated 
'  society, 
pee  of  51 
interrup- 
sxclama- 
ict  which 
)le  of  the 
:e  of  his 
they  had 
jnce,  for 
e  of  the 

intervals 
by  one 
id  heads 
IS  to  ad- 
le  plain 
me  must 
leir  eyes 
the  gen- 
Rue  do 
red  into  • 


the  Rue  de  la  Paix.  All  the  troops  then  stationed  in 
Paris,  and  its  immediate  vicinity,  were  present.  First 
came  the  numerous  infantry,  with  their  arms  reversed, 
after  whom  followed  the  horse  artillery,  the  finest  corps 
in  the  service  of  France,  dragging  the  heavy  rumbling 
guns  with  one  hand,  and  holding  a  lighted  match  in  the 
other  :  the  men  of  this  corps  were  truly  imposing  in  ap- 
pearance. To  these  succeeded  the  heavy  cavalry  of  the 
line ;  several  coaches,  bearing  the  royal  arms  of  France, 
and  containing  princes  of  the  blood,  precede^^/  the  cor 
in  which  was  deposited  all  that  now  remained  vof  the 
eighteenth  Louis. 

Nothing  could  be  more  gorgeous  than  this  vehicle — 
nothing  could  tend  less  to  impress  a  stranger  with  tho 
fact  of  its  being  a  receptacle  for  the  dead.  Four  gilt 
pillars  rising  from  the  several  angles  of  the  car,  and  ter- 
minated above  by  plumes  of  white  ostrich  feathers,  sup- 
ported a  canopy  of  the  same  material,  relieved  by  fes- 
toons of  the  richest  crimson  velvet.  The  dazzling  splen- 
dour of  the  bier,  which,  like  the  body  of  the  car,  was  also 
highly  gilded,  attracted  every  eye,  and  was  scarcely 
surpassed  by  the  regalia  which  had  been  deposited  on  the 
former.  Behind  these  came  the  archbishops,  the  bi- 
shops, and  inferior  clergy  of  the  metropolis,  after  whom 
following  a  long  line  of  mendicants,  hay;)ited  in  gray 
frocks  and  hoods,  and  bearing  each  a  lighted  torch. 
Succeeding  these,  and  in  full  costume,  came  the  mar- 
shals of  France,  with  their  white  sashes  girding  their 
loins,  and  a  host  of  decorations  pending  from  their 
breasts.  A  numerous  group  of  young  and  handsome 
aids-de-camp,  and  other  officers  of  the  staff,  followed  in 
their  train,  prancing  their  gayly  caparisoned  steeds,  in 
despite  of  the  solemnity  of  the  occasion,  and  saluting 
and  saluted  by  the  fairer  and  more  select  of  those  female 
groupes  which  lined  the  windows  in  the  principal  streets, 
and  along  the  Boulevards.  After  these  came  the  mu- 
uicipial  authorities  of  Paris,  and  then  the  royal  foot 
guards,  and  the  corps  of  the  hundred  Swiss,  followed  by 
the  household  cavalry.    First  the  cuirassiers,  with  their 


I 


VOL.  I. 


11 


I 


■'^' 


r 


If -,  ^w-M* -rtW-rfv**"*.  T%*.*-«»«iyP'»  V  ft* . 


w 


*^'-i 


w 


122 


l^CARTjg. 


glittering  armour  and  heavy  helmets,  wedged  in  close 
column,  presented  their  imposing  front,  while  numerous 
squadrons  of  hussars,  their  bear-skin  caps,  and  long 
mustaches,  giving  additional  fierceness  to  their  looks, 
composed  the  centre.  The  lighter  and  more  elegant 
divisions  of  the  lancers  next  appeared,  dazzling  and  de- 
lighting every  female  eye  with  the  motion  of  the  gay 
flags,  suspended  from  their  long  lances,  and  the  uncea- 
sing action  of  their  plumes,  waving  in  recumbent  grace- 
fulness over  their  shakos.  To  these  succeeded  the 
garde  du  corps  of  the  king,  and  that  of  Monsieur,  in 
their  full  and  richly  embroidered  dresses,  and  the  pro- 
cession was  finally  terminated  by  a  second  corps  of  the> 
gendarmerie  d^  elite. 

The  only  apartment  which  Dormer  had  been  enabled 
to  secure  for  his  friends,  was  an  entresol  on  the  Boule- 
vard de  Gand,  which,  however,  commanded  a  distinct 
view  of  the  ceremony.  Sir  Edward  and  the^colonel 
were  not  of  the  party — the  former  feeling  himself  too 
unwell  to  venture  out,  and  the  latter  being  occupied  in 
writing  letters  of  importance.  Immediately  below  the 
window  at  which  Miss  Stanley,  Dormer,  and  our  hero 
now  stood,  a  small  group,  consistmg  of  two  ladies  and 
the  gentleman  already  described  as  O'Sullivan's  friend, 
had  taken  th^  stand  without  the  crowd.  The  eyes  of 
both  females  were  directed  towards  the  party  ;  but  an 
observation  from  their  companion,  who,  in  glancing  up- 
wards, had  distinguished  our  hero,  caused  them  to  turn 
suddenly  round,  and  Delmaine  instantly  recognised  in 
the  fuller  and  more  matronly  figure,  his  late  compagnon 
de  voyage,  Madame  Dorjeville.  She  looked  at  him  for 
a  second,  but  immediately  dropped  her  eyes,  and  resu- 
med her  original  position.  Her  companion  appeared 
to  be  about  nineteen.  Her  hair,  of  a  rich  auburn,  was 
luxuriant  and  glossy ;  her  skin  was  delicately  fair,  and 
her  large  blue  eyes  sparkled  with  fires  that  attested  any 
thing  but  the  slumber  of  the  passions.  Her  gaze  encoun- 
tered, but  shrunk  not  from  that  of  Delmaine.  Yet  her 
look  was  not  bold ;  it  had  a  blended  expression  of  touch- 


Is 


i  1   '. 


i  in  close 
lumerous 
and  lonjLT 
;ir  looks, 
e  elegant 
',  and  de- 

the  gay 
le  uncea- 
nt  grace- 
eded  the 
nsieur,  in 

the  pro- 
ps of  the* 

I  enabled 
e  Boule- 
L  distinct 
jtcolonel 
nself  too 
upied  in 
lelow  the 
our  hero 
idies  and 
's  friend, 
;  eyes  of 
i  but  an 
icing  up- 
i  to  turn 
^nised  in 
npagnon 
him  for 
nd  resu- 
ippeared 
urn,  was 
air,  and 
sted  any 
encoun- 
Yet  her 
)ftouch- 


tc\KTt. 


123 


iDg  softness  and  exciting  languor,  which  fascinated 
and  subdued.  Her  figure  was  elegantly  formed,  and 
her  attitudes,  free  and  unstudied,  were  singularly  stri- 
king in  their  gracefulness. 

"  Est-ce  Men  Im"  she  at  length  exclaimed,  in  an  ani- 
mated tone,  and  evidently  replying  to  the  observation 
of  the  gentleman,  to  whom  she  now  turned,  "  ah  !  quHl 
est  jolt  gargon.'''* 

The  parties  were  too  near  not  to  be  overheard  by 
Delmaine  and  his  friends,  and  each  was  variously  afiect- 
ed  by  the  remark.     Miss  Sanley  trembled  and  turned 
pale,  while  a  feeling  of  disappointment  stole  across  her 
mind  as  she  gazed  on  the  beautiful  and  dangerous  speak- 
er.    Our  hero  affected  not  to  have  heard  it;  but  in 
the  gleam  of  satisfaction  which  lighted  up  his  counte- 
nance, a  less  attentive  and  less  interesting  observer  than 
Helen,  would  have  discovered  not  only  that  he  had 
heard,  but  that  he  was  pleased  with  this  expression  of 
interest    from    one   so  evidently  fascinating.  Dormer 
watched  the  countenance  of  his  friends,  and  understood 
their  feelings.  He  foresaw,  in  the  delicate  sensibility  of 
the  one,  and  the  impetuous  passions  of  the  other,  sources 
of  much  future  disquietude  to  both,  and  he  almost  felt 
inclined  to  wish  they  had  never  met. 

"  Surely  these  people  will  never  come,"  said  Miss 
Stanley,  with  an  air  of  impatience.  "  We  have  already 
been  here  upwards  of  an  hour." 

"  They  cannot  be  detained  much  longer,"  observed 
Dormer :  "  it  is  nearly  twelve  o'clock,  and  that  was  the 
hour  appointed  for  the  departure  of  the  cortege." 

"  For  my  part,"  exclaimed  Delmaine,  endeavouring 
to  assume  an  air  of  indifference,  *'  I  find  more  amuse- 
ment in  studying  the  anxious  countenances  which  have 
been  exhibited  for  the  last  hour,  than  I  could  possibly 
derive  from  witnessing  the  most  splendid  procession  in 
the  world.     Do  you  not  agree  with  me.  Miss  Stanley.?" 

"  Much  depends  on  the  interest  we  feel  in  those 
••ountenances,"  returned  Helen,  in  a  quick  yet  faltering 
tone.     "  There  are  some  faces  that  please  more  than 


"'.(..-'. 


•  'Knr -ff i^;--  ■-■■■'-■If ^-i»^-  ■■■'•''^•'.■>: . 


)'  ' 


v\ 


124 


tCAKFt. 


Others,  and  I  dare  say  you  have  not  been  studying  all 
the  different  countenances  which  compose  those  groups, 
Mr.  Delmaine." 

Clifford  felt  and  coloured  at  the  sarcasm  conveyed, 
for  he  could  not  deny  that  the  observation  of  Miss  Stan- 
ley was  perfectly  just.  His  only  answer  was  a  look- 
but  a  look  so  full  of  eloquence  and  softness,  that  it  ba- 
nished every  unfavourable  impression  from  the  mind  of 
Helen,  and  restored  her  once  more  to  gayety  and  good 
humour. 

"  VbJld  lesgrandes  eaux  de  Versailks^''^  said  a  young- 
Frenchman  of  fashionable  appearance,  who,  with  hi;^ 
friend,  had  now  joined  Madame  Dorjeville  and  her  party. 

Not  only  the  eyes  of  the  little  group  below  were 
turned  in  the  direction  to  which  he  pointed,  but  those 
also  of  Delmaine  and  his  party.  At  a  short  distance, 
and  closely  pressed  by  the  crowd,  our  hero  now  beheld 
his  quondam  friend,  the  enormous  Mrs.  Rivers,  accomh 
panied  by  two  nearly  equally  voluminous  masses  of 
matter,  which  he  presumed  to  be  her  daughters.  They 
were  escorted  by  the  tall  gentleman  who  had  played  so 
conspicuous  a  part  in  the  packet  scene  described  in  the 
opening  of  the  volume.  Mrs.  Rivers,  whose  nature  and 
maxim  it  was  to  be  perpetually  bustling,  was  by  no 
means  inactive  on  the  present  occasion.  Like  many 
others,  she  had  been  unable  to  procure  an  apartment  in 
any  part  of  that  long  extent  through  which  the  proces- 
sion was  to  pass ;  and  she  now  sought,  as  she  elegantly 
expressed  herself,  to  "  make  the  best  of  it,"  where  she 
was. 

It  was  singularly  unfortunate  for  Mrs.  Rivers,  at 
least  on  the  present  occasion,  and  under  existing  circum- 
stances, that  Nature  had  curtailed  her  of  much  length, 
while  she  had  added  proportionably  to  her  breadth,  for 
she  was  literally  thrown  into  a  copious  perspiration  by 
the  repeated  and  successive  efforts  she  made  to  raise 
herself  on  her  toes  on  a  line  with  those  who  so  complete* 
ly  intercepted  her  view.  Foiled  in  this  attempt,  she 
now  had  recourse  to  another  expedient,  ?^nd  seamed 


<  I 


ECARTE. 


125 


ying  all 
groups, 

nveyed, 
ss  Stan- 
look — 
t  it  ba- 
mind  oC 
d  good 

young 
vith  hijs 
r  party. 
V  were 
t  those 
istance, 
beheld 
accoitt- 
isses  of 

They 
lyed  so 
in  the 
ire  and 
by  no 

many 
aent  in 
)roces- 
gantly 
sre  she 

rs,  at  - 
rcum- 
3ngth, 
ih,  for 
on  by 
raise 
plete^ 
t,  she 
eroed 


resolved  to  gain,  what  in  England  is  vulgarly  termed, 
'<  elbow  room."  With  this  view,  and  much  to  the  amuse- 
ment  of  some,  and  annoyance  of  others,  she  kept  fidget- 
ing her  short  thick  person  in  every  direction,  until  she 
finally  succeeded  in  effecting  a  passage;  when,  estab-, 
lishing  herself  in  front  of  the  line,  she  seemed  perfectly 
indifferent  to  the  position  of  her  party.  Meanwhile,  the 
Hottentot  proportions  of  the  young  ladies,  literally  sus- 
pended from  the  arms  of  their  tall  cavalier,  kept  moving 
lip  and  down  with  little  less  velocity  than  that  exhibit- 
ed by  their  mamma ;  so  great,  indeed,  that  in  one  instance 
it  nearly  threatened  a  catastrophe. 

It  was  a  peculiarity  with  Mr.  Darte  to  be  considered 
as  being  on  the  best  of  terms  with  whatever  lady  he  con- 
versed ;  and  nothing,  he  fancied,  was  more  likely  to 
impress  his  male  acquaintance  with  the  fact,  than  that 
sort  of  whispering  familiarity  in  which  he  was  wont  to 
indulge.  Several  of  his  friends  were  among  the 
surrounding  concourse ;  and  as  he  now  stopped  both 
to  the  right  and  to  the  left,  to  whisper  observations  to 
tJie'  young  ladies,  which  were  by  no  means  of  a  nature 
to  require  so  much  seeming  mystery,  his  countenance 
wore  an  air  of  satisfaction  and  self-sufficiency,  which 
was  intended  to  attract  the  attention  of  others. 

Unfortunately,  the  persons  of  Misses  Fanny  and  Lucy, 
although  scarcely  inferior  in  dimensions,  were  very  lit- 
tle more  elevated  than  that  of  their  mamma,  whose  exain- 
ple  in  rising  on  the  toe,  some  sixty  times  in  a  minute, 
they  now  most  sedulously  imitated.  Just  as  Mr.  Darte, 
whose  observant  eye  had  caught  the  gaze  of  a  gentle- 
man of  his  acquaintance  directed  towards  him  and  his 
(companions,  stooped,  with  an  air  of  tenderness,  rather 
imusual  for  him,  thrown  into  his  naturally  stern  features, 
to  make  some  remark  to  Miss  Lucy,  that  lady's  head 
propelled  rather  violently  upwards  by  the  impetus  of 
more  than  a  hundred  weight  of  animal  matter,  came  in 
contact  with  the  nez  retrousse  of  the  gallant,  which  suf^ 
fered  so  much  by  the  concussion,  that  he  was  compelled 
to  have  recourse  to  a  cambric  handkerchief,  with  which 


\L,- 


\  \ 


126 


tCAKlt. 


I 


III  ' 


he  now  occupied  himself  in  stanching  the  blood  thai 
flowed  rather  abundantly. 

.  Miss  Lucy  apologized,  of  course,  but  being  more  in* 
tent  on  seeing  the  procession  than  interested  in  the  re- 
sult of  her  gaucheriet  seemed  to  pay  no  further  attention 
to  the  circumstance,  at  which  Miss  Fanny,  however^ 
laughed  most  heartily.  Mr.  Darte,  though  secretly 
cursing  the  unlucky  star  which  had  led  him  accidentally 
that  morning  into  a  rencontre  with  these  not  the  most 
polished  of  his  acquaintance,  by  whom  he  had  been 
pressed  into  the  service  for  the  day,  was  too  polite  to 
betray  his  vexation.  He  would  even  have  had  com- 
mand enough  over  himself  to  appear  gracious,  and  treat 
this  offence  to  his  dignity  with  badinage,  had  he  not  un- 
fortunately discovered  that  the  acquaintance  just  alluded 
to,  had  been  a  witness  of  the  accident,  and  was  now 
amusing  himself  at  his  expense  with  an  individual  who 
had  joined  him.  Mr.  Darte  was  a  true  Frenchman  in 
one  respect ;  he  could  endure  any  thing  but  ridicule, 
but  this  was  a  weapon  to  which  he  was  peculiarly  vulne- 
rable, and  now  that  he  saw  it  directed  by  his  own  friends, 
his  heart  sunk  within  him ;  nothing  but  the  recollection 
of  balls  and  suppers,  which  flashed  confusedly  across  hi^ 
mind,  prevented  his  being  absolutely  rude  to  his  com- 
panions. Mr.  Darte  had  the  happy  talent  of  reconci- 
ling his  feelings  to  his  interests,  and  even  when  he  hated 
those  to  whom  he  was  compelled  to  pay  attention,  could 
smile  and  appear  all  amiability  and  kindness. 

Few  of  our  readers,  however,  who  have  spent  any 
time  in  Paris,  can  fail  to  recognise  an  old  acquaintance 
in  Mr.  Darte,  who  has  long  been  a  fixture  in  that  gay 
metropolis.  Few  can  have  lounged  in  the  gardens  of 
the  Tuileries  between  the  hours  of  three  and  five,  with- 
out meeting  a  tall,  stifl'-backed  gentleman,  with  some 
half  dozen  yards  of  cravat  encircling  his  throat,  and 
descending  over  his  chest  in  multitudinous  folds,  his^ 
elbows  preserving  an  angle  of  forty-five  degrees,  and 
adhering  to  that  position  with  studied  and  unyielding 
pertinacity.    Few  of  those  who  have  been  in  the  habit 


■r^rf'jjMiRt-^-. 


:"->i-;i&.'-M. -^VM- t^'j9^j,/.-j,'ij„,'^^ij:i"-L'yrf--.j'.Cis  >'\k'*'\- '".-- tj/.('"--'.'_  ";■.'■>.  .'-i  j-":!^'"k' 


i  I 


of  attending  the  English  wirUs  in  Paris,  can  have  fail- 
ed to  remark  a  consequential  being,  who,  pirouetting 
a  la  Pauly  with  a  no  very  PauMike  face  or  figure,  has 
often  placed  the  toes  of  the  surrounding  party  in  jeopar- 
dy, while  the  peculiar  curling  of  the  upper  lip  would 
have  induced  one  to  believe  that  he  was  rather  suffering 
torture  from  the  operation,  than  deriving  any  pleasure 
in  the  amusement.  This  accomplishment  had,  however, 
proved  of  the  greatest  service  to  the  tall  gentleman,  who 
had  succeeded  in  pirouetting  himself  into  the  good 
graces  of  the  young  ladies,  while  another  peculiar  talent 
for  which  he  was  remarkable,  had  insured  him  the  suf- 
frages of  the  mammas.  Mr.  Dane  was  a  second  Kitchi- 
ner,  and  could  expatiate  on  the  various  duties  of  the 
purveyor's  department,  with  nearly  as  much  facility  as 
he  turned  on  his  heels.  Wherever  he  chanced  to  dine,  he 
insured  himself  a  round  of  future  invitations,  by  the  un- 
qualified praises  he  bestowed  on  the  taste  displayed  in 
the  culinary  arrangements ;  for  as  all  were  in  the  habit 
of  hearing  him  volunteer  his  opinions  on  such  occasions, 
it  was  presumed  that  his  privilege  was  acknowledged, 
and  his  judgment  undisputed.  Nothing  could  be  more 
admirably  convenient  to  the  tall  gentleman  than  this 
sort  of  life,  for  a  good  dinner  some  three  or  four  days 
in  the  week,  in  a  great  degree  compensated  for  the  pri- 
vatipri8\o  which  he  would  otherwise  have  been  subject- 
^Iby  a  somewhat  limited  income.  Wherever  'he  dined, 
however,  he  was  expected  to  dance  almost  exclusively 
with  the  young  ladies  of  the  family,  when  there  chanced 
to  be  any ;  for  good  dancers  were  much  in  requisition, 
and  a  young  lady  who  had  any  pretensions  in  that  line, 
would  as  soon  have  dispensed  with  the  services  of  Coli- 
net,  as  with  those  of  Mr.  Darte,  since  good  music  was 
not  more  necessary  in  the  one,  than  good  dancing  in 
the  other,  to  make  her  appear  to  advantage.  In  short, 
no  dancing  dog  or  monkey,  amid  the  host  of  those 
which  were  daily  exhibited  by  the  young  Savoyards  in  the 
streets,  and  on  the  Boulevards  of  Paris,  was  more  fre- 
quently called  on  to  exhibit  its  powers  than  Mr.  W.  C« 


tf«ite^,Miwi(ii»««i  'iHniti 


■  i 


feff*. 


128 


^cartjS. 


H.  D.  F.  Darte,  whose  names  were  even  numerous  as 
his  steps.  He  was  oflen  heard  not  to  complain,  but  to 
boast  that  the  requisition  in  which  his  legs  were  so  gene- 
rally held,  invariably  cost  him  a  pair  of  silks  per  night. 

The  tall  gentleman's  enumerations  of  the  expenses 
incurred  by  the  hire  of  cabriolets  in  attending  these  par- 
ties, were  also  frequent ;  but  he  had  been  observed  by 
more  than  one  person  removing  the  shoes  in  which  he 
had  walked  to  the  porters'  lodge,  and  substituting 
those  magic  pumps  which  were  to  charm  all  female  eyes, 
and  which  were  carefully  drawn  from  a  side  pocket  of 
his  capacious  cloak.  r    ,,  -  ,  . 

As  the  farmer  consults  his  barometer  in  order  to  as- 
certain the  state  of  the  weather,  in  the  same  manner,  and 
with  the  same  confidence,  were  the  young  Englishmen 
in  Paris  wont  to  consult  M r.vDarte  for  information  in  re- 
gard to  the  amusements  of  the  evening.  Were  a  dozen 
))arties  to  take  place  on  the  same  night,  he  knew  where, 
and  by  whom  given  ;  for  such  was  the  estimation  into 
which  he  had  danced  himself,  tliat  invitations  came  pour- 
ing in  from  every  quarter,  and  often  puzzled  him  in  his 
choice.  He  had,  however,  goUt  sufficient  to  prefer  thos(> 
where  something  more  than  eau  sucree — that  terror 
of  all  Englishmen-^constituted  the  refreshment  of  thr 
evening ;  for  while  he  gratified  the  young  ladies  by  the  dis- 
play of  an  agility  by  no  means  common  to  a  serious-look- 
ing personage,  measuring  six  feet  some  inches  in  height, 
he  seldom  neglected  to  gratify  himself  in  return,  by  paying 
assiduous  court  to  the  good  things  on  the  supper-table. 

This  was  a  primary  consideration,  and  he  sought 
every  opportunity  x)f  enlarging  his  substantial  supper- 
giving  acquaintance.  He  had  been  introduced  to  two 
young  ladies,  a  short  time  prior  to  a  trip  he  made  to 
London,  as  the  daughters  of  a  city  couple,  who,  it  was 
whispered,  intended  to  give  large  entertainments  in 
Paris  during  the  winter  j  and  it  was  the  mother  of  these 
young  ladies  whom  he  subsequently  met  on  board  the 
St  am-packet,  on  his  return,  in  the  person  of  Mrs. 
Hi  vers.  In  what  manner  he  succeeded  in  reconciling 
himself  to  that  lady,  in  the  cabin,  we  could  never  learn  ; 


■*.^SMfc^' v" 


......:v.z..^lAi 


tCAfLTi. 


120 


but  Mr.  Darte,  it  has  been  observed,  had  much  plauii- 
bility  of  manner,  and,  we  doubt  not,  that  by  mixing  with 
his  apologies,  which  his  interests  must  have  rendered 
sincere,  certain  flattering  observations  in  r"ffard  to  Misses 
Fanny  and  Lucy,  he  had  contrived  tt  uisarm  the  fat 
lady  of  her  resentment,  and  to  insinuate  himself  entirely 
into  her  good  grnces. 

The  remark  of  the  young  Frenchman  was  occasion- 
ed by  dijeu  de  mot,  which  had  become  almost  proverbial 
both  among  French  and  English,  in  regard  to  the 
Rivers  family,  whose  vast  proportions  had  induced  the 
appellation.         ,   ..^   -:jt.  *j;  ' 

"  Au  mains  ce  ne  sont  pas  da  eaux  cotdantei"  said 
the  fair  friend  of  Madame  Dorjeville,  smiling  and  look- 
ing archly,  "  qu*en  pemez-vaus,  mmquU  f* 

"  Mafoi,  je  ne  m'occupe  gueres  de  cct  itres  Id"  re- 
plied the  individual  interrogated,  who,  with  his  hands 
crossed  behind  him,  stood  leaning  against  a  tree  in  the 
most  indolent  of  attitudes.  "  Cependant,"  he  continued, 
attempting  to  keep  up  the  pun,  "  vou»  avct  tort—'Ellcif 
peuvent  couler  facikment." 

*^Et  comment,  man  cher  marquis  9  expliqxiez-nous  cela, 
de  grace,"  returned  the  other,  playfully. 

^^  Elles  peuvent  coaler  has,"  was  the  reply,  accom- 
panied by  a  smile. 

"  Ah,  Monsieur  le  Marquis  de  Forme,  c^est  unj'eu  dv 
mot  detestable  que  cela ;  a  peine  le  pardoumrait-on  a  un 
etranger  /"  said  the  lady,  with  mock  seriousness,  and 
lingering  on  every  word.  Then,  in  a  livelier  tone,  she 
added,  *'  Mais,  pourquoi  faites-mus  si  pcu  de  cas  de  ces 
belles  dames.  Ah,  nuiintenant  Je  sins  aufait  ;jc  parv: 
que  vous  etesjaloux  de  ce  grand  Monsieur,  qui  fait  y  aim- 
able  aupres  d'elles." 

"  Jaloux  de  lui,  Adeline,  ctes-vous  folk  9"  replied  the 
other,  with  an  air  of  conscious  superiority,  and  a  look 
which  might  have  been  interpreted,  "  you,  at  least,  do 
not  think  so."  "  C^est  la  plus grande peste  de  la  societc 
— n  est  rempli  de  fatuite-^t,  malheureusement,  on  le 
rencontre  partout" 


^  .^ 


^'^ 


■'   ■■•  J':'"^' 


.#: 


130 


■r 


^CART^. 


his  pique ,.  '.  ,/,,/«,•,  tS?"S.l  rf  "^  *«  ^«"ceal 

ferait  autanV'  ^"^  ^^""^^  «^«  •^^''fl^m  </e«  Plantes 

Vraiment !  dnn^i^  /  v/  z  •      ^ 

The  marquis  hif  JiJc  r 

«&  trancaise,  had  never  inn.     j'^'^i''  "ho,  dressed 

"M  ma  low  voice,  a!X«™tfTi-*- ^^^"^  ?"  '"e 
The  young  man  kiZ  i,™   ?  •"  *"*  companion.     ■ 

female  vhom  he  h»<)  S-  .  '  ■"  ''"'  "»'■  Bm  thp 
glanced  in  rte  dtctio?;.."'^  .''"'<'  ^'•'""e,  "gl 
to  .he^m„,„i,,  ZZZ-'"''^"''  "^  I""'  turSng 

'°"STf  .^''^^-^«^^'"'^*'"-'~- ' 

^.»^f'    ■■">--<■  Aemarquis;  ",>^^^,„,,„,   , 
comrnme^-mm  ?"  "  '"'Porte—c'est  Men  luili,. 

^«»^«*fe/"  e.w.  re*:a^:a-::  ,^^^. 


Y-w»,Mfci; 


'sSi£J.*--t 


"-'"'*■"•' •©«^« 


V 


m 


ifiCARTE. 


131 


«!?♦. 


at  the  same  moment.     "  Ou  avez-vous  appris  celaT^ 

continued  the  former. 

"  Ce  Monsieur  Anglais,  qui  nous  a  quitte  au  moment 

de  voire  arrivee  nous  en  a  fait  part.^^ 

"  Parbleu  it  fera  fortune  parmi  nos  femmes,^^  invo- 

hintarily  murmured  the  marquis,  "  m^is  quelle  est  cette 

dame  a  cote  de-iiui  ? — est-ce  sa  soeur  ?" 

"  OA,  pour  cela,  rums  n'en  savons  rien,^''  said  Madame 

Dorjeville,  who  had  hitherto  remained  silent ;  "  ce  Mow- 

sieur  nous  a  dit,  cependant,  que  ce  duel  avail  ete  occa- 

stone  par  une  belle  dame;  et  nous  aimons  a  la  folic,  nous 

autres  femmes,  ces  preux  cavaliers  qui  sefont  tu£rpour 

leurs  maitresses.^^ 

"  Est-ce  ainsi  done  /"  sighed  the  marquis,  raising  his 
elegant  form  and  taking  the  arm  of  his  friend.  "  Adieu, 
Dorjeville — adieu,  Adeline,  a  ce  soir.^^ 

•'  Adieu,  Marquis — adieu,  St.  Armand.  On  regoit 
chez  Astelli  aujourd^hui,"  rejoined  their  companions, 
who,  now  left  to  themselves,  (&ew  within  the  extremity 
of  the  line  of  spectators,  while  the  two  Frenchmen  con- 
tinued their  lounge  up  and  down  the  Boulevard,  the 
marquis  occasionally  glancing  at  the  window  which  had 
previously  attracted  his  notice. 

During  this  colloquy,  the  cortege  had  passed,  and  the 
household  cavalry  were  then  within  a  few  paces  of  the 
spot  where  Madame  Dorjeville  and  her  companions 
stood,  at  the  inner  edge  of  the  line.  At  the  moment 
when  the  cuirassiers  of  the  guard  came  immediately  op- 
posite, a  temporary  delay  in  the  procession  caused  them 
to  halt,  and  Delmaine,  whose  attention  was  directed  to 
the  group,  saw  an  officer,  of  powerful  frame  quit  his 
station  i.n  the  ranks,  and  advance  towards  the  females, 
to  whom  he  gave  his  hand,  with  all  the  freedom  of  an 
old  acquaintance.  Beneath  the  enormous  helmet,  and 
amid  the  shining  plates  of  steel  with  which  his  vast  form 
was  encircled,  he  had  no  difficult  in  recognising  M. 
de  Warner,  and  he  could  not  account  to  himself,  why 
he  felt  uncomfortable  in  witnessing  the  familiarity  which 
seemed  to  exist  between  the  parties.    Madame  Dorje- 


y  ti 


.\.if*i  i  .'        .    '^l:-^  ■/■.■,.::,- 


^m^ 


»^'i«M.*    ^.  ..^.^ 


132 


^CARTlS. 


*     fs 


vlUe,  however,  he  recollected,  had  described  herself  as 
being  the  widow  of  a  colonel  of  cuirassiers,  and  he  pre- 
sumed that  this  officer  had  served  in  the  same  corps,  in 
which  case  the  peculiar  freedom  of  his  manner  and  ad- 
dress might  be  accounted  for.  The  cortege  now  pro- 
ceeded, and  the  cuirassiers  moving  forward,  De  Warner 
prepared  to  join  them,  but  his  horse  became  suddenly 
restive,  and  plunging  with  violence,  refused  to  obey  the 
rein.  The  crowd  around,  were  at  first  slow  in  receding, 
and  both  Madame  Dorjeville  and  her  friend  became  ex- 
ceedingly terrified.  Another  furious  plunge  brought  the 
unmanageable  charger  to  the  very  edge  of  the  line. 
The  dense  mass  by  which  the  retreat  of  the  females  was 
impeded  now  suddenly  gave  way,  leaving  a  space  en- 
tirely unoccupied,  when  the  younger  of  the  two  losing 
her  equilibrium,  in  the  removal  of  the  support  against 
which  she  had  reclined  her  nearly  fainting  form,  sud- 
denly fell  to  the  earth.  At  this  moment  the  furious 
horse  had  reared  so  high,  as  to  be  nearly  thrown  on  his 
haunches ;  and  his  pawing  feet  threatened  instant  de- 
struction in  their  descent  to  the  almost  motionlesi^  frame 
of  the  young  Frenchwoman,  whom  no  one  seemed  pos- 
sessed of  courage  or  presence  of  mind  sufiicient  to  re- 
move. 

The  moment  was  critical.  Widi  the  swiftness  of 
thought,  Delmaine  sprang  from  the  entresol  upon  the 
Boulevard,  and  fixing  his  eye  steadily  upon  the  head  of 
the  animal,  while  he  extended  his  right  arm,  caught  the 
bridle  near  the  bit  as  he  descended,  and  by  a  powerful 
and  vigorous  eflbrt  succeeded  in  turning  him  round. — 
The  unwieldy  brute  staggered  for  a  moment,  as  if  shot, 
and  then  came  violently  to  the  ground.  De  Warner 
fell  under  him.  His  helmet  had  broken  loose,  and  was 
soon  nearly  trodden  to  pieces  by  the  squadrons  of  hus- 
sars and  lancers,  which  followed  after  his  own  corps. — 
His  ponderous  armour  rattled  like  that  of  a  second 
Ajax,  on  the  pavement,  and  his  huge  frame  was  nearly 
covered  with  dust  in  the  struggles  which  he  made  to 
extricate  himself  from  his  steed.     Scarcely  had  our  hero 


I  I 


^CA&Ti. 


13^ 


ed  herself  as 
J,  and  he  pre- 
ime  corps,  in 
iiner  and  ad- 
ige  now  pro- 
l,  De  Warner 
une  suddenly 
;d  to  obey  the 
(V  in  receding, 
id  became  ex- 
re  brought  the 
e  of  the  line, 
le  females  was 
;  a  space  en- 
the  two  losing 
apport  against 
ng  form,  sud- 
nt  the  furious 
thrown  on  his 
led  instant  de- 
jtionlese  frame 
le  seemed  pos- 
jfficient  to  re- 
swiftness  of 
'esol  upon  the 
on  the  head  of 
m,  caught  the 
»y  a  powerful 
him  round. — 
lent,  as  if  shot, 
De  Warner 
ose,  and  was 
idrons  of  hus- 
|own  corps. — 
of  a  second 
^e  was  nearly 
he  made  to 
had  our  hero 


accomplished  this,  feat,  when,  devoting  his  attention  to 
the  young  female,  he  raised  her,  trembling,  and  nearly 
exhausted,  from  the  earth.  Her  hair  was  loose,  and 
partially  concealed  her  features,  which  were  now  pale 
from  agitation^  and  alarm,  but  in  her  soft  blue  eye  there 
was  a  touching  expression  of  gratitude  and  abandonment, 
which  it  was  dangerous  to  behold.  Clifibrd  looked 
around  for  Madame  Dorjeville,  for  he  felt  that  Uie  gaze 
of  Miss  Stanley  was  upon  them.   ^-^  i^ ''^r^  'r^.. 

That  lady,  who  had  been  borne  away  by  the  receding 
crowd,  now  advanced,  when  her  friend,  in  a  low  soft 
tone  of  voice,  accompanied  by  a  look  of  ineffable  sweet- 
ness, took  the  opportunity,  to  remark — "  Est-ce  done  a 
toust  Monsieur^  quejedoisla  vie  ? — Oh  !  quel  honhewr!" 

Delmaine  involuntarily  pressed  the  hand  he  held,  but 
was  silent.  The  irear  of  the  procession  being  now 
passed,  a  fiacre  that  had  been  called,  was  suffered  to 
draw  up,  and  he  hastened  to  conduct  her  to  it.  Madame 
Dorjeville  now  seemed  to  recognise  him  for  the  first 
time  ;  and  expressing  a  hope  that  he  would  favour  them 
with  a  visit — although  she  neglected  to  give  him  an  ad- 
dress—-hurried  after  her  friend,  evidently  glad  of  an  op- 
portunity to  avoid  all  further  conversation.  The  coach 
now  drove  off,  and  as  our  hero  was  in  the  act  of  turning,  . 
he  felt  a  hand  upon  his  shoulder,  and  nearly  at  the  same 
instant  beheld  the  huge  frame  of  De  Warner,  who  had 
been  rescued  from  his  disagreeable  position  by  a  couple 
of  the  gendarmerie  d* elite,  who  brought  up  the  rear  of 
the  procession. 

Vexed  and  mortified  at  the  ridiculous  figure  he  now 
exhibited,  this  officer  had  given  his  horse  in  charge 
to  a  bystander,  fully  determined  to  fasten  a  quarrel  on 
the  offender.  In  fact,  his  appearance  at  this  moment 
was  such  as  almost  to  justify  his  extreme  irritability  of 
temper,  which  increased  in  proportion  with  the  smiles  and 
titterings  of  many  6f  the'  small  groups  that  continued 
to  Unger  near  the  spot,  in  the  expectation  of  a  result. — 
His  disfigured  helmet,  covered  with  dust,  stood  tottering 
on  the  very  extremity  of  his  head,  to  which  it  was  only 

VOL.  I.  12 


•-• -A^.-^  "irw+A^w*.. 


■•'«***^|»»:r«??f'^iS^:sr^«w>r.'»-.;nsi|pM)iMw^-- 


,"<■- 


134 


l^CARTJ^' 


secured  by  the  chain  which  pended  from  its  sides,  and 
encircled  his  chin.  The  whole  of  his  right  side,  bi» 
face  and  hair,  were  also  covered  with  dust,  while  a 
streak  of  blood,  issuing  from  a  slight  wound  in  the  tem- 
ple, produced  by  a  flint  he  had  encountered  in  his  fall, 
mingled  with  the  latter,  and  gave  a  hideous  expression 
to  his  countenance,  now  flushed  high  with  the  crimson 
of  anger,  and  contrasting  strongly  with  that  of  our  hero, 
at  this  moment  unusually  and  strikingly  pale.  The 
right  hand  of  the  cuirassier  grasped  die  naked  sword 
which  he  held  at  the  moment  of  his  fall,  and  in  his  left 
was  a  spur,  which  had  been  torn  from  his  heel  in  the 
powerful  efforts  he  had  made  to  extricate  himself  from 
his  charger.  His  white  military  small-clothes  were  also 
much  soiled  ;  and  from  the  extremity  of  the  cuirass  to 
the  elbow,  a  rent  was  visible  along  the  right  arm  of  his 
splendid  Uniform.  In  short,  with  the  exception  of  the 
bulk  and  stature,  nothing  could  less  resemble  the  dash-^ 
ing  cavalier  who  had  so  recently  appeared  in  all  the 
pride  of  self-sufliciency  at  the  head  of  his  troop,  than 
the  now  mortified  and  indignant  Capitaine  De  Warner. 
The  first  object  of  the  cuirassier,  on  regaining  his 
feet,  was,  as  we  have  just  observed,  to  punish  the  offend- 
er ;  for,  though  perfectly  aware  that  diat  act  alone  had 
preserved  the  young  female  with  whom  he  appeared  to 
be  on  such  terms  of  familiarity,  from  serious  injury,  if 
not  death;  still  this  consideration  was  insuflicient  to 
stifle  his  indignation  at  having  been  made  a  subject  for 
so  much  ridicule.  It  happened  at  the  moment  when  his 
unruly  charger  began  so  unceremoniously  to  threaten 
the  lives  of  his  catholic  majesty's  subjects,  that  Mrs.  Ri- 
vers had,  after  much  shuffing  and  elbowing,  contrived 
to  secure  a  place  near  the  spot  where  the  accident  occur* 
red.  Now  this  lady  was,  as  our  readers  must  have  re- 
marked on  their  first  introduction,  eminently  gifted  with 
lungs,  and  these  she  thought  could  never  be  more  appro'- 
priately  exercised  than  on  the  present  occasion.  Scream* 
ing,  therefore,  with  all  her  strength,  and  producing  near- 
ly as  much  terror  in  the  bystanders  as  the  refractory 


f. 


■':        » 


"?** 


J^CARTl^. 


135 


Korse  itself,  the  shrill  tones  of  her  voice  at  length  reached, 
and  were  recognised  hy  her  daughters.  Mr.  Darte  was 
instantly  despatched  to  her  rescue,  and  now  had  the  hap- 
piness of  once  more  supporting  the  delicate  frame  of 
Mrs.  Rivers. 

Stunned  by  his  fall,  and  nearly  blinded  with  dust,  the 
cuirassier,  whose  anger  had  deprived  him  of  ail  self-pos- 
session, had  but  an  indistinct  perception  of  persons.  It 
is  not,  therefore,  surprising  that,  amid  his  confusion, 
he  should  have  mistaken  Mrs.  Rivers  for  the  lady  just 
rescued  by  our  hero,  or  Mr.  Darte  for  the  individual  by 
whom  he  had  been  overthrown.  In  this  belief  he  was 
confirmed  by  the  blood-stained  handkerchief  which  that 
gentleman  still  held  exposed,  and  which  De  Warner 
naturally  supposed  to  be  a  sufficient  clue  to  his  identity. 
Advancing,  therefore,  with  rapid  strides  to  the  spotj  he 
extended  his  right  arm  in  a  direct  line  with  the  throat 
of  Mr.  Darte,  much  to  the  terror  of  that  gentleman,  the 
countless  folds  of  whose  cravat  had  never  incurred  a 
greater  risk  of  decomposition.  Suddenly  drawing  back, 
however,  he  eluded  the  grasp,  and  holding  Mrs.  Rivers 
as  a  sort  of  barrier  between  them,  he  inquired,  in  unfeign- 
ed astonishment,  what  was  meant  or  intended. 

"  Did  you  not  throw  me  down,  sir  ?"  demanded  De 
Warner,  still  extending  bis  arm  in  a  hostile  position. 

"  No,  no— no,  no,  sir  !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Rivers, 
before  the  other  could  find  time  to  reply.  "  That  is 
the  gentleman ;"  and  she  pointed  to  Delmaine. 

The  sound  of  her  voice  was  quite  enough  to  satisfy 
the  cuirassier  that  he  was  wrong.  "  I  am  very  sony," 
he  said,  bluntly ;  "  I  ask  your  pardon  for  my  mistake  ;" 
and  he  moved  towards  our  hero,  who  was  then  closing 
the  door  of  the  fiacre  into  which  he  had  Just  handed 
Madame  Dorjeville  and  her  friend. 

"  Pray,  sir,  ,1  wish  to  know  what  you  meant  by 
throwing  me  down  and  my  horse  .^"  he  inquired,  in  the 
blustering  manner  peculiar  to  him,  and  in  the  language 
of  one  who,  evidently  little  conversant  with  the  ele- 
^^ancies  of  his  own  tongue,  rendered  the  deficiency 


».' 


M^.- 


■  --*^w^L,.,,    "^-***».»^»^,„,',;,.'^^ 


;;■i4aw^>^■g3sssEWi^%^>l'i»?^«»*«^*^Ml^1^^)^^  •'  tiwh  ■  ■  ■  "i 


f 


n 


•',;  .,;  -.  i  • 


136 


^CARTlSi 


more  remarkable  by  the  foreign  accent  in  which  he  de^- 
livered  himself. 

In  an  instant  the  pale  hue  of  Delmaine's  countenance 
was  succeeded  by  a  glow  of  indignation,  and  his  eyes, 
lighted  up  with  momentary  passion,  flatihed  on  those  of 
De  Warner ;  but  suddenly  checking  his  resentment,  he 
endeavoured  to  reply  with  calmness,  while  the  trembling 
tones  of  his  voice  betrayed  his  violent  efforts  to  self- 
command. 

*'  I  am  sorry  that  t  should  have  been  the  cause  of 
your  misfortune,  but  no  other  measure  could  have  saved 
the  lady  fl'om  perishing  beneath  your  horse's  feet. 
And  surely,"  he  added,  as  if  he  thought  this  speech  too 
conciliatory,  **  the  life  of  a  human  being  is  not  to  be 
measured  in  the  same  scale  with  an  accident  of  the 
triffing  nature  you  have  experienced," 

"  Accident  of  a  trifling  nature,  sir !"  replied  De 
Warner,  with  increasing  vehemence,  and  emboldened 
by  the  temperate  language  of  our  hero.  "  Do  you 
call  this  a  trifling  accident,  to  throw  my  horse  down, 
and  put  me  in  this  condition  ?  Did  you  mean  to  in- 
sult me,  sir  ?" 

"  I  have  already  explained  the  motive  of  my  con- 
duct," said  Clifford,  still  struggling  to  subdue  his  feel- 
ings, *'  and  that  explanation  I  conceive  to  be  fully  satis- 
factoiT.     Do  you  require  any  thing  more,  sir  ?" 

"  Do  I  require  any  thing  more — do  I  require  any 
thing  more!"  repeated  De  Warner,  somewhat  startled 
at  the  fierce  look  which  accompanied  the  last  sentence. 
"  I  require,  sir,  to  know  what  you  meant  by  throwing 
me  down  ?" 

"  I  have  nothing  farther  to  say  on  the  subject,"  re- 
plied Clifford,  sternly.  "  You  have  had  my  answer, 
sir.  But  this  is  no  place  to  enter  into  explanations," 
he  pursued,  as  he  hastened  to  join  his  firiends,  who  were 
still  at  the  same  window,  anxiously  awaiting  the  termina- 
tion of  the  scene ;  "here  is  my  address."  Dc  Warner 
to(^  the  proffered  card,  and  looked  at  the  name,  a  con- 
fused recollection  of  which  passed  through  his  nund  at 


'4  ; 


'  > 


.  ^-  .---■..    ..*,-.-    iT' 


igCARTjg. 


137 


the  instant,  though  he  could  not  remember  when  or 
where  he  had  heard  it  mentioned. 

At  this  moment  the  marquis  and  his  friend  approach- 
ed ;  and  condoling  with  the  cuirassier  on  his  misfortune, 
inquired  if  he  knew  the  young  Englishman  by  whom 
he  had  been  so  cavalierly  treated. 

"  Know  him !  not  I,  indeed,"  vociferated  De  Warner ; 
"but  here  is  his  card,  which- " 

"  Vou8  avez  raisany  mon  cher,^^  exclaimed  the  mar- 
quis, interrupting  him.  "  Oest  tm  Dom  ^uichotte^ 
done  U  faut  absolumerU  corriger  la  manie  d'aventures. 
Oest  le  j'eune  Anglais  qui  vient  de  se  hattre  avec  De 
imiier:' 

*^  Eh  quoi!  vous  plaisaTitez,  Marquis,  ce  n^est  pas 
possible^''  rejoined  the  cuirassier,  in  evident  astonish- 
ment. 

"  Oest  la  Dorjeville  qui  me  Pa  dit,  et  vous  savez 
^u'elle  n^gnore  iien"  said  the  marquis,  taking  his  arm, 
and  proceeding  up  the  Boulevard.  •"i: 

De  Warner  pondered  with  the  air  of  one  apprehen- 
sive of  having  gone  too  far,  and  his  passion  now  seemed 
considerably  abated.  Having  obtained  but  an  indistinct 
view  of  his  person  in  the  morning,  he  had  not  recognised 
the  opponent  of  De  Hillier  in  our  hero,  with  whom  he 
was  by  no  means  anxious  to  embroil  himself,  after  what 
had  so  recently  taken  place.  Like  all  bullying  and 
overbearing  characters,  he  wanted  that  genuine  courage 
of  the  Soul,  which  is  inseparable  from  good  sense  and 
good  feeling.  His  brutal  manners  and  gigantic  pro- 
portions had  hitherto  had  the  efiect  of  intimidating  many 
weak  spirits,  by  whom  vulgar  boasting  and  physical 
power,  are  regarded  as  never  failing  indications  of  va- 
lour ;  but  he  had  seen  enough  of  Delmaine,  even  during 
the  last  few  minutes,  to  satisfy  him  that  he  was  not  to 
be  awed  by  such  contemptible,  advantages;  and,  that 
the  most  prudent  measure  he  could  adopt,  would  be  to 
suffer  the  matter  to  rest  altogether.  The  point  now  was 
to  convey  this  sudden  change  of  sentiment  to  the  mar- 
c[uis,  in  such  a  manner  as  to  leave  no  question  in  regard 

I9# 


"    •■> 


# 


^ 


"""W 


«<n— IBpiiiiMi'ili  "" ""'  W' 


miwi      vm>     11 


it.- 


t-f 


.•■      * 


138 


^CART]^> 


to  his  courage ;  for  he  had  certainly  given  him,  though 
indirectly^  to  understand)  that  it  was  his  intention  to  no* 
tice  what  he  had  so  hastily  resolved  to  interpret  as  an 
insult 

"  Mafdi  il  me  sembU  qu^apres  tout  fat  eu  tort,  Mar" 
qHiSy^  he  at  length  observed^  attempting  to  throw  some-> 
thing  like  playfulness  into  his  gruff  voice.  "  II  ne  poU' 
vait  faire  autrement  ce  jeune  hommej  qu^en  pemez- 


The  marquis  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  looked 
mysteriously.  "  Oest  possible  "  he  said,  but  in  a  tone 
intended  to  convey  a  contrary  impression;  "  x:. pendant 
ilfaut  avouer  que  c'est  une  maniere  (Vagir  unpev  rude.** 

De  Warner  felt  vexed,  for  he  was  anxious,  nay,  it  was 
necessary  to  his  reputation,  that  De  Forsac  should  alter 
his  opinion.     He  now  changed  his  ground.  '    - 

"  iZ  a  desavoue  toute  intention  de  mHnsidter,''*  he  cdh- 
tinuedf  "  aussit  ne  vient4l  pas  de  sauver  la  vie  a  notre 
amie  Adeline?** 

'  "  Ne  vietit-ilpas,  aussi,  d*oter  la  vie  presque  a  voire 
and  De  Hillier?**  returned  the  marquis,  with  signifi- 
cant expression. 

The  cuirassier  could  have  crushed  the  speaker  for  the 
insinuation,  but  he  was  politic  enough  to  dissemble,  and 
turn  the  hint  to  his  own  purpose.  >i  •;    ;, 

"  Je  me  decide,**  he  exclaimed.  "  Comme  Va/nd  dtt 
comte,  cela  aurait  trop  Pair  d*une  conspiration  sije 
VappdleendueL  Adieu,  Marquis;  adieu,  St  Armand.** 

The  adieus  were  reiterated,  and  De  Warner,  taking 
the  bridle  from  the  man  who  was  leading  his  horse  out- 
side the  Boulevard,  threw  his  heavy  frame  into  the  sad- 
dle, and  gallopped  off  towards  the  barracks  of  his  regi- 
ment. 

**Lagrosse  bete!**  said  the  marquis,  when  he  was 
out  of  hearing. 

^^  Le  sauvage  Irlandais!**  added  St.  Armand,  fol- 
lowing him  with  his  eye-glass. 

"  Quel  fanfaron!  quel  Gascon!**  returned  the  mar* 
quis,  with  humour,  who  had  his  own  private  views  in 


Ih 


^.- 


,,VA- 


m^ 


.*  • 


hen  he  was 


£oaiit£. 


Vishing  to  embroil  De  Warner  with  our  hero;  and  thev 
continued  their  remarks  in  nearly  the  same  strain,  until 
they  finally  lost  sight  of  him  in  me  distance. 

On  entering  the  room,  where  his  friends  were  anx- 
iously awaiting  his  return,  the  countenance  of  Delmaine 
had  resumed  that  extreme  paleness  by  which  it  was 
overspread  previous  to  his  altercation  with  De  Warner, 
and  his  whole  appearance  indicated  suffering.  Miss 
Stanley  gated  on  him  in  silence,  but  Dormer  earnestly 
inquired  if  he  was  ill.  Delmaine  replied  to  the  ques* 
tion  by  a  glance  at  his  side,^  which  was  instantly  com- 
prehended. 

The  crowd  had  now  nearly  dispersed,  and  ttie  party 
set  out  on  their  return  to  Meurice*s.  On  reaching  the 
corner  of  the  Rue  de  la  Paix,  they  suddenly  encounter* 
ed  O'SuUivan,  who,  equally  struck  by  the  death-like 
paleness  of  our  hero's  features,'  and  observing  that  he 
walked  with  seeming  effort,  abruptly  exclaimed, 

"  Bless  me,  Mr.  Delmaine,  how  ill  ye  look !  I  fear 
your  wound  has  been  more  serious  than  we  at  first  ima- 
gined." 

"  Wound  !"  hastily  repeated  Miss  Stanley,  who  now 
spoke  for  the  first  time  since  the  return  of  our  hero ; 
"  what  wound  f — ^You  said  nothiiig  of  a  wound,  Mr. 
Dormer."  <v^\-r^,vv-         ^         :*r''"-''f^;i:^^:;: 

"  A  very  slight  wound  indeed,"  said  Dormer,  some- 
what confusedly,  and  fixing  his  eyes  on  O'SuUivan,  in  a 
manner  which  gave  him  to  understand  that  he  had  CQnl-> 
mitted  an  indiscretion,   '-i.^'"'^^^^ /''■''''' ■^^^'■r^'^-^''^'-'-  '  -^^  ?  ' 

**  Faith,  and  sure  as  I'm  alive,  I  have  been  commit- 
ting a  blunder,"  said  the  contrite  Irishman  ;  ''  but  who 
could  suppose  that  ye  meant  the  thing  to  be  kept  se- 
cret ?" 

^'  It  is  nothing,  absolutely  nothing,"  cried  Delmaine, 
hastening  to  remove  the  anxiety  manifested  by  Miss 
Stanley  in  the  intonations  of  her  voice.  "  However,  Dor- 
mer," he  continued,  smiling  languidly,  *'  I  think  I  shall 
raquire  a  coach." 
i  "  Appdkz  tin  fiacre f^*  called  Dormer  to  acommis- 


K  .  ^'I^f'     -'-»*— ^"■■■•"'1  "  "11       "tlWi   il««l  '■»'  «  ■    Hi|li» 


>  •.«•- w^' 


L'. 


tckfLft, 


sionaire  iivho  stood  by»  brandishing  his  brushes,  aqd 
shouting  at  intervals  "  Boties  a  cirery  Messieurs  P* 

The  man  dropped  his  brushes,  and  ran  to  execute  the 
message.  The  party  then  proceeded  at  a  slow  pace, 
and  gained  the  corner  of  the  Rue  St.  Augustin,  at  the 
moment  when  the  ^fiacre  drew  up. 

"  I  wish  ye  better,  Mr.  Delmaine,"  said  O'Sullivan, 
when  the  party  were  seated  in  the  coach.  *'  I  am  now 
going  home,  to  put  that  little  jewel  in  ordec,  which  ye 
soiled  with  so  much  effect  this  morning.  It  should  have 
been  done  long  ago,  but  for  this  awaiefete,  which  has 
filled  my  rooms,  ever  since  my  return,  with  a  host  of 
people  ;■  but  it  is  never  too  late  to  do  a  good  thing. 
Good  morning,  madam,"  he  coi^cluded,  bowing  to  Miss 
Stanley. 

They  soon  reached  the  hotel.  The  colonel  had  gone 
out,  but  the  good  old  baronet  was  seated,  as  usual,  near 
the  fire. 

"  What,  in  the  name  of  Heaven,  is  the  matter  with 
you,  Clifibrd !"  he  exclaimed,  half  rising  from  his^au- 
teuilf  and  throwing  down  the  newspaper  as  the  party 
entered. 

"  Nothing  my  dear  uncle,  nothing  but  a  little  fatigue 
and  pain.    I  shall  soon  be  better." 

"Mr.  Dormer,"  inquired  Miss  Stanley,  "  do  you  not 
think  it  advisable  to  call  in  a  surgeon  ?" 

"  A  surgeon !"  echoed  Sir  Edward ;  "  what  can  we 
possibly  want  with  a  surgeon— a  physi^^ian  seems  to  be 
required  in  this  instance."         "f^^  '.'^  , . 

Dormer  looked  at  bis  friend.  "  There  is  no  occasion 
for  either,"  said  the  htter.  "  The  fact  is,  my  dear  un- 
cle," he  continued,  perceiving  that  f  ome  so  of  expla- 
nation was  necessary,  and  endeavouring  to  assume  a 
tone  of  levity,  "  I  did  not  escape  altogether  unhurt  this 
morning.  My  adversary's  ball  grazed  and  bruised  my 
side,  producing  a  sensation  of  extraordinary  pain> 
which  had,  however,  wholly  subsided  before  my  return. 
I  can  only  attribute  my  present  suffering,"  he  added, 
addressing  Dormer,  "  to  the  circumstance  of  ray  side 


.'.••>?:■ 


-#^ 


,  H 


iOAKTt. 


havbg  come  in  contact  with  the  window  of  the  entresol 
on  my  descent  to  the  Boulevard. 

Miss  Stanley  sighed  involuntarily,  for  she  recollected 
the  motive  which  had  induced  him  to  take  that  some- 
what dangerous  leap ;  and,  in  idea,  she  again  beheld 
the  languid  form  of  the  fascinating  Frenchwoman  re- 
clining in  his  arms. 

"  I  have  an  infallible  specific  for  external  bruises," 
said  Sir  Edward,  eagerly  ;  "  you  shall  have  in  an  in- 
stant ;"  and  he  repaired  to  his  sleeping-room  in  search 
of  a  small  medicine  chest,  which,  at  home  or  abroad^ 
was  invariably  the  companion  of  his  slumbers. 

"  Positively,  I  have  forgotten  to  discharge  the  coach," 
suddenly  exclaimed  Dormer,  who  fancied  that  his  ab- 
sence might  prove  an  Viithllible  specific  for  certain  inter' 
lud  bruises,  whicli  had  equally  been  manifested. 

A  momentary  sileiice  succeeded  to  his  departure.— 
Both  Miss  Stanley  and  our  hero  breathed  heavily  and 
quickly—- each  seemed  anxious  that  the  other  should 
speak  first,  and  each  felt  and  regretted  that  a  few  mo- 
ments only  of  private  intercourse  would  be  allowed 
them,  at  least,  for  the  present. 

"  I  trust  I  have  not  alarmed  you.  Miss  Stanley,"  at 
length  observed  Clifford,  in  a  low  and  uncertain  voice.  - 

The  look  which  Helen  turned  on  him  might  have 
been  interpreted,  "  Indeed  you  have  greatly,  deeply 
alarmed  me,  and  in  more  respects  than  one,"  while  her 
lips  pronounced,  "  I  fear  you  are  about  to  give  your 
friends  other  causes  for  anxiet3',  than  that  of  your  actual 
condition  at  this  moment,  Mr  Delmaine." 

"  And  am  I  to  class  you  r  ^.ong  the  number  of  these 
friends  f  Do  you  feel  an  inte  est  in  me  i*"  inquired  our 

hero  »^^^:^^^.^^:'/-,n^<liIr''-J|f  ^;'-':    ■    v^:    >-^ 

"  I  do,"  said  Helen,  with  en^otion.  Then  taking 
the  hand  which  he  had  extended,  "  This  is  no  moment 
for  unworthy  disguise  or  fastidious  delicacy.  Do  you 
ima^ne  I  can  so  readily  foi'get  the  painful  occurrences 
of  this  day,  or  that  I  can  behold  those  sufferings,  which 


id! 


^W? 


ifl  i 


...,^u 


142 


I^CART^. 


J 


I  have  innocentlv  occasioned,  without  feeling  the  warm* 
est,  the  deepest  interest  in  the  result  f" 

*'  OIj,  talk  not  of  these,"  interrupted  Delmaine,  with 
impassioned  earnestness ;  "  there  is  nothing  in  this 
world  I  would  not  do  to  secure  your  favour  and  esteem." 

The  eyes  of  Helen  sunk  beneath  his  gaze.  "  Will 
you  give  me  one  proof  of  the  truth  of  your  assertion  ?" 
she  replied  ;  "  one  only  proof,  Mr.  Delmaine  ?" 

"  Name  it,"  cried  Clifford,  ^ith  eagerness,  "  name  a 
thousand,  that  I  may  comply  with  them  all !" 

"  Nay,  that  would  be  extremely  foolish,  indeed,"  re- 
plied Helen,  smiling,  "  and  would  be  rathor  a  Quix- 
otic undertaking ;  but,  seriously,  what  I  require  is,  that 
you  will  not  engage  in  any  thing  of  a  serious  nature 
with  that  ruffian-looking  officer  to  whom  you  gave  your 
card.  Indeed,  Mr.  Delmaine,  if  you  are  inclined  to 
study  the  happiness  of  your  friends,  you  will  seek  to 
subdue  the  impetuosity  of  your  character  on  all  such 
occasions."  She  paused,  as  if  she  felt  she  had  gone 
too  far. 

Cllfibrd  looked  grave.  He  had  given  his  card  to  De 
Warner,  and  there  was  every  probability  that  some 
step  would  be  taken  in  consequence. 

"  Dear  Miss  Stanley,"  he  at  length  exclaimed,  "you 
must  be  aware  that  my  honour  is  in  some  degree  at  stake 
in  this  affair.  Do  not  then  persist  in  exacting  a  pro- 
raise,  the  fulfilment  of  which  must  sink  me  not  only  in 
your  estimation,  but  in  my  own.  Ask  any  thing  but 
this,  and  you  will  not  find  me  slow  to  accord  it." 
'"^  There  was  a  melody  in  the  imploring  tones  of  his  rich 
voice,  beyond  any  thing  Helen  had  hitherto  felt,  and 
his  dark  eyes  were  raised  to  hers,  with  so  much  softness 
and  supplication  of  expression,  that  she  found  it  impos- 
sible to  withstand  this  appeal. 

"  Then  I  waive  my  privilege  for  once,"  she  added, 
smiling ;  "  but  with  this  proviso,  only,  that  you  do 
nothing  to  provoke  a  meeting  ;  and  that,  in  future,  you 
endestvour  to  curb  that  fiery  nature  of  yours,  which  will 


^- 


TV.t. 


■■ij'.i',^ 


/'-; 


icxKrt, 


varm- 

,  with 
1  this 
;eem." 
'  Will 
lion  ?" 

lame  a 

d,"  re- 
Quix- 
is,  that 
nature 
^e  vour 
ined  to 
seek  to 
ill  such 
id  gone 

dtoDe 
it  some 

1,  "you 
at  stake 
a  pro- 
only  in 
ling  but 

his  rich 
felt,  and 

softness 
t  impos- 

added, 

you  do 

ure,  you 

hich  will 


•therwise  become  a  perpetual  lou^ce  of  torment  and 
anxiety  to  those  most  interested  in  vour  welfare." 

Delmaine's  heart  swelled  with  delight.  **  My  dear  , 
Miss  Stanley,  but  deign  to  continue  the  name  interest  in 
a  creature  so  every  way  erring  and  imperfect  ai  myself, 
and  1  shall  readilv  be  moulded  to  your  will.  However," 
he  pursued,  "  if  I  may  credit  the  account  of  the  eccen- 
tric Irishman  from  whom  we  just  parted,  there  is  no 
great  danger  of  this  affair  being  pursued  to  extremities. 
The  gigantic  cuirassier,  whom  you  beheld  this  morning, "' 
is  by  no  means  so  formidable  an  enemy  ai  the  one  I 
have  had  the  good  fortune  to  vanquish.  The  principal 
point  at  present,  will  be  to  keep  my  uncle  in  utter  igno- 
rance of  the  circumstance."  ,^ 

"  True,"  rejoined  Helen ;  "  his  affection  for  you  ir^ 
great,  and  these  things  can  only  have  a  tendency  to  annoy 
him,  and  give  an  unfavourable  turn  to  his  Complaint." 

"  Here  is  the  specific,"  said  Sir  Edward,  entering 
abruptly.    Miss  Stanley  coloured  deeply,  and  withdrew 
her  captive  hand,  which  our  hero,  in  relinquishing,; 
pressed  with  significant  expression. 

"  I  thank  you,  my  dear  uncle.  A«  you  have  given 
yourself  so  much  trouble,  the  virtues  of  your  specific 
shall  certainly  be  put  to  the  test." 

Dormer  now  entered,  and  Clifford,  taking  his  arm, 
moved  towards  the  door. 

"  Do  not  forget  the  direction,"  laid  Sir  Edward  ; 
'*  you  will  find  them  written  on  the  paper  which  encir^ 
cles  the  bottle — the  specific  is  infallible." 

"  I  am  sure  that  the  specific  just  given  me  ii  infalli- 
ble," observed  Delmaine,  emphatically,  and  stealing  it 
glance  at  Miss  Stanley  ;  "  the  very  anticipation  of  its 
effects  has  already  afforded  me  relief." 

"  So  I  had  predicted,"  thought  Dormer,  as  he  again 
quitted  the  apartment  of  his  friend.  ^    . 


■*<i.    ,-1 


■\''',>" 


..^•'-.'V^'';' 


^ 


i^ 


■/"i 


^CART]^. 


•7 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Time  rolled  on  in  the  usual  routine  of  Parisian 
amusements.  Sir  Edwarti  and  the  colonel  were  now  es- 
tablished in  their  new  apar^nents  in  the  Rue  de  laPaix, 
and  Delmaine  had  taken  lodgings  in  the  hotel  in  which 
Dormer  resided.  The  notoriety  attached  to  his  duel 
had  been  the  means  of  introducing  him  to  a  hpst  of  peo- 
ple^ bqth  French  and  English,  and  invitations  poured  in 
from  every  quarter.  To  many  of  the  more  respectable 
families  of  the  awAeme  nobtessci  he  found  easy  access  r 
and  feted  and  caressed  by  all,  tk-^  handsome,  !E^lish- 
man  was  the  nine  days  wonder  of  the  moment. .  But  it 
was  not  simply  for  his  courage  or  his  personal  beauty, 
that  the  Parisian  women  admired  him.  Delmaine  spoke 
the  French  language  with  nearly  as  much  facility  as  he 
spoke  his  own,  and  understanding  its  idiom,  had  at 
command  a  fund  of  wit  and  repartee,  which  both  flatter- 
ied  and  delighted.  But  the  chief  passport  to  favour  was 
that  amiabili^  of  disposition  with  women,  to  which  we 
have  already  alluded,  as  rendering  him  anxious  to  con- 
sult the  feelings  and  peculiarities  of  those  he  was  dis. 
posed  to  like,  even  at  the  sacrifice  of  his  own  opinion. 

"  Mais  c^est  impossible^  mus  iCetespas  Anglais,  Monr 
sieur  Delmaine,''^  said  the  young  Comtesse  de  Sabreuil, 
to  him  one  evening,  after  having  attentively  listened 
to  some  lively  sallies  of  his  imagination,  uttered  at  the 
termination  of  a  waltz. 

"  Et  pourquoi  pas,  Madame  ?"'  replied  our  herd, 
i^miling,  and  affecting  surprise. 

"  Vous  Tte  ressembkz  en  rien  a  vos  compatriotes — Les 
Anglais  sont  toujours  si  tristes,  si  maussades.  Mais 
vous — vous  etes  absolumetU  Frangais — N^est-ce  pas,  ma 
belleT*  she  added,  touching  Miss  Stanley,  who  sat  near 
her,  with  her  fan. 

>■■  .  J.       '    ■■■■         .  ..        ,         ,     .•-     V-:'.      ■• 


]gCART]g. 


145 


Helen  smiled  an  affirmative,  but  it  was  that  sickly 
smile  which  indicates  the  heart  ill  at  ease.  Since  the 
eventibl  epoch  of  the  duel,  when  a  partial  avowal  of 
more  than  commonplace  sentiments  had  escaped  them, 
she  beheld  with  pain  the  readiness  with  which  bur  hero 
entered  into  the  several  amusements  that  courted  him 
on  every-  band,  and  seemed  to  have  been  prepared  ex- 
pressly for  him.  She  saw  much  to  admire  in  Clifibrd, 
but  she  also  saw  much  to  condemn ;  her  strong  natural 
good  sense  led  her  to  perceive  the  weak  points  of  his 
character  Jbut  with  all  that  weakness,  there  was  a  frank- 
ness of  manner,  a  winning  gentleness  of  deportment^^ 
and  a  generosi^  of  feeling,  which  made  his  very  failings 
appear  as  virtues;  and  though  she  remarked  that,  in 
his  ^al.  address  to  women,  the  tones  of  his  voice  were 
lichj^jpfelodious,  and  touching,  while  his  eyes  sparkled 
with  animation;  yet  she  also  observed,  that,  when  he 
addressed  her,  there-was  a  subdued  expression  in  both, 
that  to  a  sensible  woman  was  far  more  flattering  and 
endearing." 

Our  hero,  it  is  true,  had  not  made  any  actual  declara- 
tion of  attachment;  but  a  thousand  little  nothings,  which 
often  speak  more  forcibly  than  a  mere  form  of  words,  a 
variety  of  trifling  attentions,  which  subdue  the  heart  be- 
fore it  is  conscious  of  being  assailed,  and  above  all,  the 
eloquent  language  of  his  gaze,  had  conveyed  an  impres- 
sion to  her  mind  which  she  could  not  but  admit,  arose 
wholly  out  of  the  conviction  that  he  had  not  beheld  her 
with  indiflference.  Often,  even  amid  his  sallies  of  gayety, 
his  eyes  would  lose  their  fire  and  their  vivacity  as  they ' 
lingered  on  her  countenance,  and  assume  a  tenderness 
of  expression  that  was  perfectly  in  unison  with  the  play 
of  his  ever-varying  features.  At  these  moments,  Helen 
felt,  that  whatever  might  be  the  charm  of  his  conversa- 
tional powers  with  others,  \he  real  intelligence  of  soul 
existed  only^  and  as  if  by  intuition,  between  themselves* 

At  one  of  the  evening  parties  which  he  now  attended, 
Delmsdne  had  been  introduced  to  the  Marquis  de  For- 
8ac,  a  nobleman,  uniting  many  accomplishments  and 


VOL.  I, 


'  >; 


,.,-  \     ;!    f  (; 


140 


ECARTE. 


'i 


powerful  abilides,  with  the  most  finished  elegance  of 
manner  and  person.  The  marquis  had,  at  an  earlier 
period  of  his  life,  been  remarkable  for  his  beauty ;  and 
even  now,  although  in  his  fortieth  year,  and  notwith- 
standing the  rayages  dissipation  had  made  on  his  fine 
countenance,  he  still  retained  many  traces  of  his  former 
self.  The  passions  which  had  ever  reigned  predominant 
in  bis  breast,  were  still  powerful  and  unsubdued,  and  he 
had  the  peculiar  talent  of  fascinating  all  whom  it  suited 
his  purposes  to  conciliate.  Beneath  an  air  of  much 
generosity,  he,  however,  concealed  a  viciousness  of 
heart  and  a  selfishness  of  feeling,  that  would  not  have 
hesitated  at  the  sacrifice  of  the  whole  world  to  the  at- 
tainment of  any  particular  object.  During  a  long  life 
of  pleasure  and  extravagance,  he  had  contrived  t^dis- 
sipate  a  handsome  fortune,  having  scarcely  enou^  left 
at  the  present  moment,  to  keep  up  that  appeiairance 
which  was  required  from  his  rank  and  position  in  so- 
ciety. A  refined  roue  from  his  earliest  years,  both  from 
habit  and  principle,  De  Forsac  shrank  dismayed  from 
the  idea  of  binding  himself  in  other  chains  than  those 
which  love  had  forged ;  but  his  increasin  g  embarrassments 
led  him,  at  length,  to  think  seriously  of  forming  a  con- 
nexion with  some  rich  Englishwoman,  (that  never-fail- 
ing resource  of  needy  men,  and  needy  Frenchmen  in 
particular,)  whose  gold  could  enable  him  to  pursue  the 
•ame  licentious  career. 

With  De  Forsac,  however,  mere  wealth  was  not  a 
suflicient  inducement  to  embark  on  the  perilous  ocean 
of  matrimony.  He  required  that  the  woman  on  whom 
he  bestowed  his  name  and  title,  should  be  distinguished 
not  less  for  personal  attractions  and  accomplishments, 
than  for  worldly  advantages.  Not  that  his  principles 
could  possibly  lead  him  to  prize  those  qualities  in  one 
whom  the  name  of  wife  must  have  rendered  odious  to. 
him,  but  that  his  self-love  might  be  gratified  by  the  envy 
and  admiration  of  his  companions  and  friends.  His 
confidence  in  himself  was  unbounded,  and  he  deemed 
tl^at  he  had  only  to  propose  himself*  to  any  woman  to 


M;.'H| 


1'    ' .  ■ 


'f;-  y 


■■/■  't  ^ 


ifiCART^. 


147 


r 


be  accepted.  Moving  in  the  first  circles,  he  had  every 
facility  of  introduction ;  but  though  he  hourly  met  with 
women  who  were  both  ready  and  willing  to  barter  their 
liberty  and  gold  for  the  magic  sound  of  Madame  la 
Marquise,  De  Forsac  had  not  yet  encountered  one 
whose  style  he  fancied  such  as  to  reflect  credit  upon  his 
choice,  and  entitle  her  to  that  distinction.  He  had,  how- 
ever, Ifeeri  particularly  struck  by  the  commanding  beau- 
ty of  Miss  Stanley  on  the  morning  of  the  funeral,  aud^ 
had  too  much  penetration  not  to  perceive  that  the  su- 
perior stranger  was  one  who  had  the  entree  into  the  first 
society.  The  rich  proportions  of  her  person,  the  luxu- 
riant masses  of  her  dart  hair,  and  the  warm  expression 
of  her  varying  and  animated  countenance,  were  well 
calculated  to  produce  an  efiect  on  such  a  man  as  De 
Forsac,  and  his  scheming*  mind  rapidly  embraced  the 
probability  of  making  tl:  er*"  'is  own.  That  she  was  rich 
he  did  not  doubt:  the  air  <  on  which  pervaded  her 

whole  appearance  was,  w.  ^  -in,  an  evidence  of  the 
fact ;  ah4  he  resdlved  to  embark  all  his  energies  in  the 
pursuit  of  one  whom  he  felt  he  could  passionately  love 
even  as  his  wife. 

He  had  not,  however,  beheld  Delmaine  without  dis- 
may ;  for  although  in  the  short  colloquy  which  ensued 
between  the  two  females  and  himself,  he  affected  to  treat 
their  encomiums  on  his  person  with  disdain,  De  Forsac 
was  compelled  secretly  to  admit  that  our  hero  was  p&> 
culiarly  formed  to  please,  and  likely  to  prove  a  most 
formicUible  rival ;  but  when  he  discovered  that  this  same 
individual  was  the  being  who  had  discomfited  his  friend 
De  Hillier,  his  envy  was  excited  to  the  highest  possible 
pitch,  though  he  had  the  address  to  concoal  his  mortifi- 
cation, and  to  treat  the  afiair  with  afiected  levity.  For 
a  moment  he  endeavoured  to  persuade  himself  that  he 
was  the  brother  of  the  beautiful  Englishwoman ;  but  as 
he  fixed  his  eyes  for  a  moment  on  the  spot  v^here  they 
stood,  he  was  at  once  satisfied,  from  their  manner,  that 
thein  was  not  the  relationship  of  brother  and  sister. 

From  this  faint  hope,  the  marquis  was  recalled  to  his 


J: 


-'*^ 


m 


l^CARTl^. 


original  conviction.  He  knew  the  female  heart  too  weU 
not  to  be  aware  that  personal  courage,  united  to  strong- 
physical  attraction  and  pleasing  manners,  is  ever  a  pass- 
port to  favour*  In  the  former  he  felt  himself  to  be  de- 
ncientj  and  cursing  the  event  which  was  likely  to  give 
much  notoriety  to  our  hero,  from  that  moment  hated 
him*  Yet  De  Forsac  was  not  a  man  likely  to  relin- 
quish a  pursuit  in  which  he  had  an  interest  in  embark- 
ing. He  had  too  good  an  opinion  of  himself,  and  Of 
those  powers  of  pleasing  which  had  hitherto  stood  un- 
rivalled, to  doubt  his  final  success  with  any  woman. 
An  immediate  introduction  was  now  the  chief  point  to 
be  considered,  and  he  resolved  to  attend  every  party  in 
the  metropolis,  in  the  hope  of  meeting  with  the  beautiful 
stranger.  Fertile  in  expedient,  his  active  mind  suggest- 
ed tlie  policy  of  hi$  forming  an  intimacy  with  our  he- 
ro, whom  he  fancied  he  could  succeed  in  detaching,  at 
least' for  a  time,  from  the  object  of  his  pursuit.  A  long 
acquaintance  with  the  passions,  had  made  him  a  ready 
diviner  of  the  feelings  of  others,  when  not  shrouded 
with  that  almost  impenetrable^veil  in  which  he  conceal- 
ed bis  own :  and  in  the  open  countenance  of  Clifibrd 
he  fancied  he  read  indicadens  of  passion  which  might 
be  turned  to  his  own  advantage.  All  the  wily  artifice 
of  hifi  nature  he  was  now  resolved  to  summon  to  his  aid : 
an4  with  the  full  determination  to  make  the  beautifiil 
Helen  h)s  wife,  in  spite  of  every  obstacle,  he  commenced 
bis  operations. 

De  Forsac  was  not  long  in  procuring  the  wished  for 
introduction.  Colonel  Stanley  had  been  provided  with 
several  letters,  which^  in  consequence  of  the  change  in 
his  plans,  he  now  found  extremely  useful.  Of  a  very 
few  of  these,  however,  he  thought  proper  to  avail  him- 
self; and  it  was  at  a  party  given  by  the  Comte  de  Sa- 
breuil;  that  the  marquis,  who  was  particularly  intimate 
with  that  nobleman,  first  met  and  was  presented  to  Miss 
Stanley  and  her  party.  Here  every  doubt  as  to  a  more 
than  commonplace  intimacy  was  entirely  dispelled;  and 
the  envious  De  Forsac  saw  but  too  plamly,  that  unless- 


i 


l^CARTl^. 


149 


his  rival  could  be  detached  from  Helen  by  the  seldom 
failing  aid  of  temptation,  there  was  no  hope  for  him. 

With  a  view,  therefore,  to  this  object,  he  attached 
himself  to  our  hero  ;  and  by  the  fascination  of  his  man- 
ner, contrived  to  inspire  him  with  a  desire  for  further 
acquaintance.  Colonel  Stanley  was  also  particularly 
delighted  with  the  rich  fund  of  wit  and  exhaustless  stores 
of  information;  which  the  conversation  of  the  marquis 
elicited..  H^  had  travelled  much,  had  served  in  the 
French  armies,  and  spoke  a  variety  of  languages  with 
a  fluency  that  could  only  be  equalled  by  a  native.  With 
Helen  he  conversed  on  painting,  music  and  sculpture, 
with  all  the  ease  and  freedom  of  a  master ;  while  the 
light  and  delicate  manner  in  which  he  wielded  the 
shafts  of  ridicule  and  satire,  both  amused  and  surprised 
her  ;  and  she  could  not  but  admit  that  De  Forsac  was 
one  of  the  most  accojnplished  men  that  graced  the 
circles  of  French  society.  Never  had  he  appeared  to 
greater  advantage  than  on  tins  cf^ning :  satisfied  with 
the  impression  he  had  made,  he  returned  to  his  hotel 
with  as  much  love  for  Helen,  as  hatred  for  Clifford,  and 
with  a  full  determination  to  leave  no  art  untried,  to 
sacrifice  the  one,  and  to  possess  the  other. 

A  few  days  after  this  event,  bur  hero,  much  to  his 
surprise,  found  a  note  of  invitation  to  a  bcU  pare^  lying 
on  the  table,  which,  on  opening,  he  found  to  bear  the 
signature  of  "  Astelli."  Who  Astelli  was,  he  knew 
not,  though  he  had  some  faint  recollection  of  the  name 
having  been  introduced  in  the. course  of  Dormer^s 
narrative.  Unwilling  to  yield  to  any  temptation  of  the 
kind,  he  threw  it  by  with  a  firm  resolution  not  to  avail 
iiimself  of  the  invitation. 

On  the  following  morning,  as  he  yet  sat  at  breakfast, 
he  was  favoured  with  a  visit  from  his  new  friend,  the 
jnarquis,  who  came  to  inquire  if  he  had  received  a  card 
for  the  splendid  ball  to  be  given  that  evening  at  Ma- 
dame Astelti*s. 

"  There  it  is,"  was  his  reply,  pointing  to  the  note, 
which  lay  upon  the  mantle-piece ;  "  but  how  is  it,  mar< 
..    ,  V.         13* 


^- 


^.x 


100 


]^cart£. 


quk,  that  I  have  been  so  far  favoured?  I  have  never 
seen  this  Aladame  Agtelli,  and  certainly  she  can  have 
no  knowledge  of  me." 

"  Oh,  that  is  easily  explained,"  said  De  Forsac,  smil- 
ing :  "  the  notoriety  attached  to  your  recent  affair,  has 
made  your  name  familiar  with  every  circle;  besides, 
you  cannot  but  consider  this  invitation  as  being  highly 
complimentary,  since  Astelli's  c^rds  to  her  bals  pares, 
are  always  confined  to  men  of  a  certain  class  and  ton,*' 

"  I  am  extremely  obliged,  indeed,  for  the.  honour  she 
is  pleased  to  confer  on  me,"  said  Delmaine ;  ''  but 
from  what  I  can  understand,  Madame  Astelli's  parties 
are  open  to  all  the  world — as  much  to  the  Chevaliei^' 
d'Industrie,  as  to  the  man  of  rank  and  honour — ^pro- 
vided her  rooms  are  well  filled,  it  matters  hot  by  whom, 
or  in  what  manner." 

**  Nonsense,  my  dear  fellow,"  interrupted  the  mar- 
quis, "  you  have  received  a  false  impression  of  the  thing 
adtogether ;  you  maf^rely  upon  it  that  en  fait  d^hommes 
there  can  be  nothing  more  select  in  all  Paris  ;  and  as 
for  tlie  women,  they  are  such  as  you  will  seldom  meet 
mvjh  ja^  any  society,  in  any  cbuntry  in  the  world.  Be- 
side^/*  he  added,  with  an  air  of  seriousness,  ''  you  do 
not  imagine  that  I  would  either  advise  your  going,  or 
venture  there  myself,  did  I  conceive  the  place  to  be  at 
ail  of  a  doubtful  character.'*" 

This  last  argument  staggered  Delmaine,  and  he  fan- 
cied that  the  high  colouring  given  to  the  description  of 
Dormer,  had  originated  more  in  disappointment  than  in 
ipofiitive  conviction.  He  thought  at  least  there  could'b/ 
no  harm  in  visiting  the  place  once,  and  judging  for  him- 
self ;  and  he  was  on  the  point  of  yielding  to  the  persua- 
sions of  De  Forsac,  when  he  suddenly  recollected  that 
he  hadpromised  to  accompany  Miss  Stanley  that  evening 
to  the  French  opera. 

"  I  cannot  possibly  go  this  evening,"  he  remarked, 
"  for  I  now  recollect  that  I  have  an  engagement  of  two 
days  standing."  ^i^vj^* 


•Jft'--: 


iiCAMntt* 


m 


<( 


?»» 


laid 


Some  party  of  no  consequence,  I  presume 
the  marquis  ;  *'  you  can  send  an  apology*" 

"  Impossible  !  I  am  engaged  to  accompany  Colonel 
and  Miss  Stanley  this  evening  to  the  opera." 

The  heart  of  De  Forsac  bounded  within  him  at  ^he 
intelligence  ;  he  saw  that  Clifford's  resolution  was  stag- 
gered ;  and  could  he  but  succeed  in  making  him  break 
this  engagement,  it  would,  he  fancied,  be  d^  first  step  . 
towards  the  accomplishment  of  his  object.  He  was  pre- 
pared to  expect  some  opposition  to  his  proposal,  and 
had  provided  himself  for  the  occasion. 

*'  I  know,"  he  said,  taking  a  letter  from  his  pocket, 
"  that  you  possess  too  much  gallantry  to  fail  in  any  en- 
gagement with  a  lady ;  but  what  shall  I  say  to  the 
^ir  writer  of  this  billet,  or  how  shall  I  contrive  to  make 
my  peace  with  her,  for  the  want  of  success  attendant  on 
my  negotiation  f  But  read,  and  judge'for  yourself." 

Clifford  took  the  embossed  paper  from  his  hands,  and 
read  as  follows : — 

"  Mon  cher  MarqmSf 

"  Ily  ahal pare  ce  soir  chez  AsteUi ;  on  dit que  vom 
etes  devenu  Vami  intime  dujetme  Anglais,  au^ptelje  dots 
la  vie :  tdchez  de  Pamener  avec  vows :  je  ne  puis  resister 
plus  long'tempsy  au  desir  que  feprouve  de  hd  temoigner 
toute  ma  recomwissance. 

"  Voire  Amie, 
"  Adeline  Dorjeville." 

"  P.  S»  Ne  manquez  pas  de  grace.  Envoyez  voire 
reponse.^* 

While  he  read  this  short  missive,  the  image  of  the  fas- 
cinating Frenchwoman  arose  to  his  mind.  Again,  in 
imagination,  he  beheld  her  reclining  in  his  arms ;  again 
he  fancied  he  heard  the  warm  expressions  of  gratitude 
which  had  been  suffered  to  escape  her  lips  ;  and  the  as- 
surance so  unequivocally  afforded  him,  that  she  had  not 
ceased  to  recollect  the  circumstances  under  which  they 
met,  together  with  the  conviction  that  it  rested  with  him- 
self alone  to  see  her  again  that  night,  all  tended  (o  shake 
his  resolution. 


■  ^  *\  I 


ri 


.;  •■•-... 


152 


l^CART^. 


De  Forsac  watched  his  varying  counteiiance,  and  wa^ 
too  well  versed  in  the  study,  not  to  perceive  how  the 
conflict  in  his  mind  was  likelv  to  terminate. 

"  Well,  what  am  I  to  say  r"  he  demanded,  carelessly. 
«  Do  you  accompany  the  Stanleys,  whom  you  see  every- 
day, and  every  moment  of  your  life,  or  do  you  yield  to 
the  prayers  of  one  who  seems  to  be  dying  to  pour  forth 
th";  effusions  of  a  grateful  heart  ?  Recollect,  this  may 
be  v:te  only  opportunity  you  will  have  of  seeing  her,  for 
she  talks  of  accompanying  her  mother,  Madame  Dorje- 
ville,  into  the  south." 

"  Her  mother  ?"  repeated  Clifford,  with  surprise.— 
"  You  do  not  mean  to  say  that  the  person  who  was  with 
her  on  the  day  of  the  accident,  is  her  mother  ?" 

"  The  same,"  replied  the  marquis.  "  I  knew  Colonel 
Dorjeville  intimately  ;  •  his  wife  was  once  what  her 
daughter  is  now." 

**  But  she  has  another  child,"  observed  our  hero ; 
<<  has  she  not — a  child  about  five  or  six  years  of  age  .^" 

«  Yes — a  child  that  was  bom  about  three  months 
after  her  husband's  death.  But  why  do  you  ask  f  I 
thought  you  were  an  utter  stranger  to  Madame  Dorje- 
ville?" '  . 

"  I  trayelled  in  the  diligence  with  her  from  Calais," 
said  Clifford ;  "  our  acquaintance  is  limited  to  that.^ 

"  What !"  exclaimed  De  Forsac,  "  are  you  the  young 
Englishman  to  whom  Madame  Dorjeville  was  indebted 
for  assistance,  when  she  was  so  unfortunate  as  to  lose  her 
purse  f " 

"  The  same ;  but,  may  I  inquire  in  my  turn,  how  you 
became  acquainted  with  that  trifling  circumstance  f" 

"  Ah  !"  replied  De  Forsac,  "  the  gratitude  of  a  wo- 
man's heart  will  always  burst  forth  into  generous  ex- 
pression. You  must  positively  go ;  Madame  Dorjeville 
is  dying  to  behold  you  once  more — you,  who  have  more 
than  ever  secured  her  gratitude  by  the  gallant  manner 
in  wliich  you  preserVied  her  daughter's  life.  A  propoSf'^ 
he  resumed,  after  a  short  pause,  "  have  you  heard  any 
thing  from  Capitaine  De  Warner,  whom  you  so  uncere 


'f; 


l^CART^. 


153 


inoniously  rolled  in  the  dnst  f  I  believe  you  gave  him 
your  card  ?"  and  I>e  Forsac's  penetrating  eye  was  fas- 
tened upon  the  countenance  of  Uelmaine  as  he  spoke. 

'VNot  a  word,"  said  our  hero.  "  I  wsuted  at  home 
several  mornings,  in  the  expectation  of  a  message,  but 
none  arrived,  and  the  period  is  now  gone  past." 

"  Le  poltron"  muttered  the  marquis,  half  aside,  and 
involuntarily,  '*  but  what  shall  I  say  f "  he  added,  going 
to  the  secretaire^  and  taking  up  a  pen.  "  Must  I  ir^orm 
Mademoiselle  Dorjeville  that  she  is  doomed  to  lose  all 
the  anticipated  pleasure  of  the  evening,  or  shall  I  say 
that  her  preux  chevalier  AngtaiSy  is  ready  to  do  homage 
to  those  charms  which,  but  for  him,  would  have  been  at 
this  moment  mouldering  in  t^e  Pere  la  Chaise." 

"  Well,  I  suppose  I  must  go,"  said  Clifford ;  "  but  how 
shall  I  excuse  myself  to  the  Stanleys  ?" 

"  Write  a  note,"  replied  De  Forsac,  "  and  my  sier- 
vant  shall  drive  my  cab  round,  and  leave  it  at  the  por- 
ter^s  lodge,  after  he  has  been  to  Adeline  with  my  billet." 

*^  But  they  will  think  it  singular  that  I  do  not  call 
myseh,"  resumed  our  hero. 

"  You  can  say,"  returned  the  marquis,  "  that  you  are 
just  setting  off  for  St.  Cloud  with  some  friends ;  for,  by 
the  way,  I  have  such  an  engagement  in  view  for  you. 
We  shall  meet  two  or  three  young  men,  dine  early,  and 
return  in  good  time  to  dress."  ^ 

To  this  Delmaine  assented,  and  De  Forsac,  now  sa- 
tisfied that  he  had  gained  his  point,  filled  up  the  interval 
between  the  departure  and  return  of  his  cabriolet,  with 
rich,  but  not  fulsome  encomiums  on  the  beauty  of  the 
young  female,  obscurely  hinting,  at  the  same  time,  that 
it  depended  altogether  on  our  hero  to  improve  the  advau" 
tage  he  already  possessed  over  a  tliousand  less  fortunate 
rivals. 

On  the  return  of  the  servant,  Delmaine  had  comple- 
ted his  toilet  for  the  morning,  and  they  now  issued 
forth  on  their  new  expedition.  At  the  bottom  of  the 
staircase  they  met  Dormer.  De  Forsac,  who  had  not 
been  regardlessof  the  intimacy  between  the  young  men, 


■,'    ■ 


154 


ifiCARTlfi. 


had  too  much  penetration  not  to  perceive  the  friendly 
Mentorship  which  the  one  was  sufiered  *.o  exercise  over 
the  other.  He  now  dreaded  an  interruption  to  his 
project.  From  the  first  introduction  of  Dormer  to  De 
Forsac,  a  sort  of  jealous  defiance  and  distrust  had  sub- 
sisted on  either  side,  which  was,  however,  never  other- 
wise manifested  than  in  the  studied  politeness  of  their 
manner,  and  the  involuntary  and  haughty  drawing  back 
of  their  persons,  whenever  they  came  unavoidably  in 
contact  with  each  other. 

"  What,  Delmaine,  going  out  already  ?"  inqaired 
his  firiend,  with  an  air  of  disappointment  at  seeing  him 
in  the  society  of  the  marquis. 

"Ofi'toSt.  Cloud,  _where  we  intend  dining.  Will 
you  join  us.  Dormer?" 

."  Impossible,"  was  the  stiff  reply.  "  I  am  engaged 
to  dine  in  town ;  but  you  will,  of  course,  be  back  in  time 
for  the  French  opera.  You  know  we  have  engaged 
ourselves  to  the  Stanleys." 

"  I  am  afraid  not,"  stammered  Clifford,  a  slight  flush 
crimsoning  his  cheek  as  he  remarked  the  look  of  disap- 
pointment and  surprise  with  which  his  friend  regarded  him. 

"  And  why  ?"  demanded  Dormer,  still  keeping  his 
eye  intently  fixed  on  him. 

"  Because  I  have  another,  and  a  very  particular  en- 
gagement for  this  evening,  and  I  have  sent  an  apology  to 
the  Stanleys." 

"  Because  you  have  another  and  a  very  particular 
engagement,  and  you  have  sent  an  apology  to  the  Stan- 
leys!"  repeated  Dormer,  sarcastically. 

Not  less  vexed  at  the  reproach  tacitly  conveyed  in  the 
repetition  of  his  words,  thap  at  the  satirical  smile  which 
played  upon  the  features  of  the  marquis,  who  stood 
during  this  short  colloquy,  tapping  his  boot  with  his 
slight  whalebone  oane,  and  half  humming  a  trifling  po- 
pular air  of  the  day,  Delmaine  grew  angry. 

"  Mr.  Dormer,"  he  exclaimed,  hastily,  "  I  presume 
I  am  at  liberty  to  form  my  own  engagements,  without 


.  y 


•-.'''   V^  .?*      t'^'-  '■' 


l^CARTt. 


155 


ietidly 
B  over 
to  his 
to  De 
id  sub- 
•  other- 
of  their 
ig  back 
[ably  in 

nqiired 
ing  him 


)• 


Will 


pngaged 
k  in  time 
engaged 

ght  flush 
of  disap- 
rdedhim. 
^ping  his 

cular  en- 

lology  to 

■ ',.  '*'-' 

►articular 
Ithe  Stan- 
zed  in  the 
tie  which 
jho  stood 
with  his 
ffling  po- 

presume 
5,  without 


consulting  the  opinions  of  others  on  the  question  of  their 
propriety  or  impropriety." 

"  Most  assuredly,  ]Vlr.  Delmaine,"  proudly  rejoined 
his  friend ;  then  bowing  stiffly,  and  noticing  the  marquis 
simply  by  that  haughty  drawing  back  of  his  person,  to 
which  we  have  already  alluded,  he  turned  on  his  heel, 
and  asqended  to  his  apartment. 

A  feeling  of  shame  and  bitter  regret  stole  across  the 
mind  of  our  hero ;  he  felt  that  he  was  wrong,  and 
was  about  to  follow  and  apologize,  when  the  impulse 
was  suddenly  checked  by  an  observation  from  De 
Forsac.  The  latter  had  watched  the  progress  of  this 
little  misunderstanding  with  deep  interest,  though  the 
outward  air  of  carelessness  which  he  had  assumed,  would 
have  led  any  one  to  imagine  that  he  had  been  studious- 
ly contriving  to  avoid  listening  to  the  'conversation. 
Here  was  another  and  an  unexpected  opening  to  the  ac- 
complishment of  his  plans.  Could  he  succeed  in  sub- 
verting the  influence  of  Dormer,  by  arousing  the  angry 
feelings  of  Delmaine,  he  had  no  doubt  of  his  eventual 
success ;  but  the  point  was  to  do  this  with  address  ;  and 
in  such  a  manner  as  would  most  aflfect  him — gamely, 
through  the  medium  of  his  amour-propre 

"  You  certainly  have  an  excellent  Mentor,"  he  ob- 
served, as  soon  as  they  were  seated  in  the  cabriolet; 
'*  it  must  be  delightful  to  have  a  friend  of  one's  own 
age,  ever  ready  and  willing  to  give  one  advice.     For, 
my  part,  however,  I  hate  advice  where  I  do  not  ask  it  f 
^est  fort  genant,  et  mrtout  devant  une  troisieme  per- 


Sonne. 

This  was  touching  the  sensitive  chord.  Had  his 
friend  remonstrated  in  private  on  the  subject,  Clifford 
could  have  borne  ?iny  observation  ;  but  to  be  thus  taken 
to  task  before  a  third  person,  was  what  his  pride  and 
high  feeling  could  not  endure.  The  satirical  smile  of 
De  Forsac  seemed  to  insinuate — in  fact,  had  been , 
meant  to  say — that  he  considered  him  in  leading-strings, ' 
and  such  a  supposition  he  could  not  brook  for  an  itir 
slant, 


-•;,  Y- 
-<■■'■.•. 
•■■  I,.  ■ 


/t  ■' 


156 


K^XART^. 


**  Dormer  is  by  no  meani  my  Mentor/'  he  replied  ; 

'  but  as  a  very  old  friend  and  conypanion,  he  thinks  he 

s.  justified  in  using  the  language  of  expostulation.     In 

act,  it  is  to  his  representations  that  you  are  to  attribute 

my  extreme  reluctance  to  visit  Asteili's." 

"Then  I  will  stake  my  existence  he  has  lost  his 
money  there,"  said  De  Forsac.  "  I  never  yet  knew  a 
man  who  was  unfortunate  in  any  oqe  of  the^e  houses, 
who  did  not  abuse  them  all  indiscriminately  afterwards." 

Delmaine  could  not  deny  this,  and  began  once  more 
to  think  that  much  of  Dormer's  prejudice  against  these 
establishments  had  arisen  out  of  his  repeated  losses. 

**  I  believe  he  has  been  unfortunate,"  was  his  reply ; 
"  but  latterly  he  has  given  up  these  haunts  entirel}',  and 
his  advice  to  me  has  been  the  result  of  his  own  expe- 
rience, and  his  sincere  interest  in  my  happiness." 

"  Well,"  returned  De  Forsac,  "  it  may  be  all  very 
proper  and  very  kind  to  warn  one  of  the  rock  on  which 
we  have  foundered  ourselves ;  but  to  compel  one  to 
steer  a  particular  course  in  despite  of  our  own  wishes 
and  judgment,  is,  it  must  be  confessed,  somewhat  arbi- 
trary.".       .  ^ 

Delmsune  said  nothing,  although  he  thought  so  too. 
Still  his  mind  was  ill  at  ease ;  he  had  broken  his  engage- 
ment with  the  Stanleys  ;  -he  had  offended  his  friend  by 
his  warmth,  and  he  was  about  to  enter  into  a  scene 
which  he  had  understood  was  covered  with  roses,  but 
beneath  which  lurked  a  thousand  thorns  ;  and  he  felt, 
as  he  rolled  rapidly  towards  St.  Cloud,  that  that  even- 
ing was  to  decide  the  happiness  or  misery  of  his  future 
existence. 

After  sauntering  about  for  a  few  hours  in  the  park 
and  garden,  they  sat  down,  with  two  other  young  men, 
officers  of  the  guard,  to  an  early  dinner.  The  conver- 
sation turning  on  the  reigning  beaudes  of  the  day,  one 
of  the  strangers,  a  cousin  of  De  Forsac,  happened  to 
mention  Adeline  Dorjeville,  to  whom  he  alluded  in  terms 
tm  peu  leitCt  when*  the  marquis,  catching  his  eye,  gave 
him  to  understand,  by  bis  peculiar  ghnce,  that  he 


t:' 


animat 
"W 
looking 
brighte 
you? 

countei 
wish  to 

The 
tor  Clii 
the  plej 
tures  bi 

"I 
but  if  SI 
reroaii 

The  I 

VOL. 


M. 


■  •'^  ,■•     »..•.!(.. 


\ 


tCKKTt* 


151 


lied ; 
kft  he 

.     In 

fibute 

St  his 
new  a 
ouses, 
ards." 
•  more 
t  these 
;e8. 

reply ; 
ly.  and 
I  expe- 
» 

ill  very 

1  which 

one  to 


wished  the  subject  to  be  discontinued.  The  officer  in- 
stantly took  the  hint,  and  spoke  of  some  other  woman, 
then  a  favourite  of  the  moment.  Cliflbrd,  who  had  not 
been  unobservant  of  the  circumstance,  (bit  pained  at  the 
remarks  that  had  been  made,  but  said  nothing. 

On  their  return  to  Paris,  Delmaine  inquired  of  his 
servant,  a  long-tried  domestic  of  his  fatnerU,  if  Mr. 
Dormer  had  left  a  message  for  him.  His  chagrin  was 
great  when  informed  that  he  had  not ;  he  proceeded  to 
his'toilett  with  a  heavy  heart,  and  one  of  those  gloomy 
forebodings  of  evil  by  which  the  human  imiigination  is 
so  often  and  so  unaccountably  assailed.  During  the 
whole  of  the  day  he  had  flattered  himself  with  the  hope 
that  Dormer  would  not  have  cherished  his  resentment 
beyond  the  passing  moment,  and  that  a  card,  or  some 
slight  document,  would  have  been  left  in  his  absence, 
as  a  testimonial  of  the  fact.  He  would  willingly  have 
retreated  if  he  could ;  and  even  the  inconsistency  of 
breaking  his  promise  with  De  Forsac  would,  in  all  pro- 
bability, have  had  little  effect  in  deterring  him,  had 
Dormer  been  there  to  strengthen  him  in  his  resolution, 
or  had  he  nut  actually  sent  his  apolugv  to  the  Stanleys, 
(n  the  midst  of  these  gloomy  reflections,  the  marqtiis 
suddenly  entered,  brilliant  in  fashion,  and  unusually 
animated.  *  \ 

"What!"  he  exclaimed,  "in  a  brown  study,  and 
looking  as  if  you  were  going  to  be  hanged,  when  the 
brightest  eyes  in  the  world  are  languishmg  to  behold 
you  ?  Come,  cheer  up,  my  dear  fellow,  and  let  your 
countenance  wear  any  other  expression  than  this,  if  you 
wish  to  make  an  impression  *on  Adeline." 

The  very  name  of  Adeline  had  a  singular  fascination 
for  Clifford,  who  was  no  sooner  recalled  to  a  sense  of 
the  pleasure  which  actually  awaited  him,  than  his  fea- 
tures brightened  up,  and  he  replied,  with  a  smile—     '^ 

"  I  was  not  aware  of  having  been  in  a  brown  study; 
but  if  so,  it  has  arisen,  I  presume,  from  the  ennui  of 
remaining  so  long  in  expectation  of  your  arrival." 

The  marquis  had  too  much  peaetration  to  believe  u 

VOL.  I.  14 


ff 


158 


tl  CARTE. 


Word  of  this,  but  lie  had  also  too  much  tact  and  judge- 
ment to  suffer  the  shadow  of  a  coutrary  impression  to 
appear^ 

"  By  the  by,"  he  said,  as  they  were  about  to  depart, 
and  suddenly  putting  his  hand  into  his  pocket,  '*  I  must 
beg  you  to  wait  a  moment,  until  I  send  to  my  lodgings 
for  my  purse,  which  I  have  forgotten.  Shall  I  ring  for 
my  servant?"  he  added,  approaching  the  bell. 

"  By  no  means,"  returned  Delmaine;  "  I  can  supply 
you  with  what  you  want." 

"  Well,  it  will  save  time,"  rejoined  De  Fo^rsac,  "  and 
I  can  return  it  to  you  to-morrow.  Let  me  see :  I  sup- 
pose there  will  be  a  little  play  to-night,  and  I  shall  be 
obliged  to  have  a  few  Napoleons ;  let  me  have  fifty." 

"  Are  you  sure  that  will  be  enough?"  said  Clifibrd, 
handing  him  a  five  hundred  franc-note  and  a  rouleau  of 
gold. 

"Oh,  plenty,"  rejoined  De  Forsac;   "I  never  play 

high,  and  here  is  much  more  than  I  shall  feel  inclined 

to  risk  this  evening."  7      '  ''""     '    v  ov  ^  r  ^  ^'2:^^;  :: '^ 

_,.    :  •■-'■■^     ■■     -■•■,*:■   '^^^  ■'■-■'<:■■  M:. 


CHAPTER  IX. 


t 


It  was  late  when  De  Forsac's  cabriolet  whirlfd  round 
from  the  Boulevard  into  the  Rue  Grammont.  The  j)0)ie^ 
rochlre  of  Astelli's  hotel  was  crowded  with  carriages  of 
all  descriptions,  and  the  noise  and  confusion  which  pre- 
vailed among  the  groups  of  coachmen  and  servants, 
gave  every  indication  of  a  numerous  party.  Alighting 
from  their  vehicle,  the  marquis  and  our  hero  ascended  to 
the  large  and  splendidly  lighted  anti-room,  at  the  fur- 
ther extremity  of  which,  a  well-dressed  man  sat,  to  re- 
ceive certain  contributions  levied  on  the  visiters.  With 
this  individual  the  marquis  deposited  two  cards  of  invi- 


.■..Jf!> 


ECARTE. 


159 


talioii  and  a  Napoleon ;  then,  passing  through  a  second 
and  smaller  apartment,  he  led  the  way  through  two 
spacious  folding  doors  into  the  dancing  room. 

Nothing  could  surpass  the  magnificence  of  the  scene. 
A  flood  of  light  seemed  to  burst  from  the  rich  crystal 
lustres,  which  studded  the  walls  of  the  gilded  apart- 
ments, and  were  reflected  from  the  splendid  mirrors 
filling  up  the  intervals  between  each,  multiplying  objects 
into  almost  infinitude.  Glittering  in  jewels,  covered 
with  plumes,  adorned  in  all  the  elegance  of  Parisian 
costume,  a  hundred  fine  and  voluptuous  forms  arrested 
the  eye  in  quick  succession.  A  few  German  and  Italian 
women  who  could  readily  be  distinguished — the  former 
by  the  rich  fulness  of  their  proportions,  the  latter  by  the 
almost  overpowering  lustre  of  their  eyes — were  among 
the  number;  the  remainder  were  almost  exclusively 
French,  and  from  every  province,  from  the  blood-ex- 
citing plains  of  the  south,  to  the  more  frigid  regions  of 
the  north.  The  men  were  of  almost  every  country. 
French,  English,  Russians,  Spaniards,  Italians,  Ger- 
mans, and  Portuguese,  composed  the  throng;  and  many 
of  these,  with  the  exception  of  the  English,  wore  some 
decoration  pending  from  their  breasts.  *'     ' 

At  the  moment  when  De  Forsac  and  Clifford  appear- 
ed at  the  entrance,  many  of  the  party  were  seated  on 
the  crimson  velvet  ottomans  which  lined  the  apartments, 
conversing  in  small  groups,  or  watching  the  figure  of 
the  waltz,  which,  as  usual,  had  just  Succeeded  to  the 
quadrille  ;  others  lingered  around  in  indolent  attitudes, 
or  sauntered  to  and  from  the  card-rooms  at  the  oppo- 
site extremity.  Among  the  waltzers,  Clifford  remark- 
ed the  cousin  of  De  Forsac,  with  whom  he  had  dined. 

The  face  of  his  partner  was  averted  from  him  at  the 
moment,  but  he  fancied  that  he  knew  the  form.  He 
was  not  wrong.  In  the  next  instant,  he  recognised  Ade- 
line Dorjeville,  and  as  she  I'apidly  approached  in  the 
whirling  figure  of  the  dance,  he  sought  to  catch  her 
eye.  She  passed,  however,  without  seeing  him.  The 
action  of  the  waltz  had  given  a  rich  glow  to  her  counte- 


:'K\ 


.  I 


160 


^CARTI^. 


nance,  and  he  watched  the  elegant  and  voluptuous 
movements  of  her  person  through  the  figure,  until  his 
heart  thrilled  with  deep  emotion,  and  hi^  eyes  sparkled 
with  a  mingled  expression  of  admiration  and  languor. 

In  a  few  moments  Adeline  again  approached ;  she 
looked  up,  and  the  eyes  of  Delmaine  met  hers.  In  an 
instant  the  blood  receded  from  her  cheek ;  she  half  re- 
clined her  head  on  the  arm  of  her  partner,  and,  discon- 
tinuing the  dance,  was  conducted  to  her  seat. 

De  Forsac,  who  had  attentively  watched  the  counte- 
nance of  our  hero  from  the  first  moment  of  their  entrance, 
saw  him  change  colour,  and  he  already  gloried  in  the 
anticipation  of  his  success. 

"  Shall  I  introduce  you  now,"  he  observed,  careless- 
ly, "or  shall  I  wait  until  she  gets  better  f  Something 
has  afiected  her." 

"By  all  means  introduce  me,  and  without  delay," 
urged  Clifibrd,  impatienUy. 

They  crossed  the  room.  Adeline  saw  them  approach, 
and  again  her  cheek  flushed  high.  "  PermetteZf  Made- 
moiseUe  DofyeviUe,  que  je  vous  presente  mon  ami  intime, 
Monsieur  Delmaine"  said  the  marquis. 

Adeline  and  Clifibrd  both  bowed,  and  as  their  eyes 
met,  there  was  an  eloquence  of  expression  that  must 
have  rendered  any  attempt  at  language  vain.  They 
were  silent. 

In  a  few  minutes  De  Forsac  withdrew  to  the  other 
side  of  the  room ;  when  the  young  female,  in  a  tone  of 
mingled  vivacity  and  tenderness,  began  to  express  her 
gratitude  and  thanks  for  the  service  Clifibrd  had  render- 
ed her.  "Oh,  how  much  Ivfeared  that  you  would  not 
come  this  evening,"  she  adc-  d.  "I  have  been  count- 
ing the  very  minutes  during  the  last  hour*,  and  they 
seemed  interminable :  how,"  she  concluded,  "  shall  I 
.confess  what  I  felt  at  the  moment,  when  my  fears  were 
entirely  dissipated  by  your  presence?" 

Clifibrd  had  remarked  that  eflect.  He  had  seen  her 
turn  pale  as  death  from  the  light  mazes  of  the  waltz, 
and  he  fancied  that  he  was  beloved : — ^his  cheek  glow- 


A 


ii)i.:*v^i:ii't'J!l'^t-^ 


]|cart6. 


161 


itUOUS 

til  his 
irkled 
;uor. 
I;  she 
In  an 
alf  re- 
iiscon- 

ounte- 
trance, 
in  the 

ireless- 
lething 

delay," 

proach, 
Made- 
intime. 


cd  high — his  eye  was  dimmed  with  passion — he  thought 
not  once  of  the  singularity  of  such  a  confession,  from 
one  so  young  and  so  heautiful ;  but  as  he  gazed  on  her 
fascinating  countenance,  he  suffered  his  judgment  to 
be  subdued  into  the  belief  that,  as  he  was  loved  for  him- 
self alone,  to  him  exclusively  such  language  could 
ever  be  addressed  from  those  lips. 

"Shall  we  walk?"  pursued  Adeline,  observing  that 
the  eyes  of  many  of  the  company  were  fixed  upon  her 
companion,  who  had  been  recognised  by  some  of  the 
party  as  the  opponent  of  De  Hillier — -a  fact  that  soon 
became  generally  known  throughout  the  salon. 

Delmaine,  though  somewhat  reluctantly,  rose,  and 
giving  his  arm,  suffered  himself  to  be  conducted  into 
the  card-rooms.  There  another  blaze  of  light  flashed 
on  the  view,  while  round  the  several  tables  were  to  be 
seen  confused  groups  of  men  and  women,  '^.eeply  inter- 
ested in  the  progress  of  the  game.  Near  one  of  these 
our  hero  lingered  for  a  few  minutes.  A  young  English- 
man, and  a  woman  bf  commanding  features,  sparkling 
with  diamonds,  and  ornamented  with  waving  plumes, 
held  the  cards.  Before  them,  on  the  table,  lay  gold 
and  notes  in  profusion,  the  stakes  of  the  several  betters, 
who  formed  a  dense  mass  around  the  players,  scarcely 
allowing  them  room  to  move.  The  betters  for  the 
Englishman  were  chiefly  Spaniards  and  his  own  coun- 
trymen. Those  for  the  female  were  almost  entirely 
French.  Her  score  was  four,  while  her  adversary, 
whose  deal  it  was,  had  only  marked  one ;  and  the  counte- 
nances of  both  parties  were  regulated  by  the  state  of 
their  respective  games.  The  Englishman  dealt,  and  as 
liis  opponent  took  up  her  cards,  a  look  of  triumphant 
success  was  exchanged  among  her  supporters.  Per- 
fectly cool  and  practised  in  the  game,  she,  however,* 
suftered  no  indication  of  hope  or  feai*  to  escape  her ; 
but  turning  to  a  tall,  dark  man  near  her,  calmly  inqui- 
v«m1,  more  with  a  view  to  deceive  her  adversary,  than  to 
obtain  information — 

.  14*  .■•y 


162 


£CARTi^. 


« 


^u*en  pemez-voust 


Monsieur  le  Commandant  f 


"  Du  tout,  Madame^"  replied  the  other,  in  an  equal- 
ly calm  tone ;  *Hl  fimt  jouer" 

Knave,  ace,  and  nine  of  trumps,  and  king  and  queen 
of  another  suit,  composed  her  hand.  Those  around 
her  would  have  staked  their  fortunes  on  the  issue — she 
played  the  knave. 

"  Jc  marque  le  roi"  said  her  adversary,  winning  at 
the  same  time  with  the  king.  He  then  played  the  knave 
of  her  second  suit — she  won  it  with  the  queen ;  then 
played  the  king  of  the  s^me,  in  order  to  keep  the  ten- 
ace  in  trumps.  .A  small  card  was  thrown  away  upon  it ; 
and  as  she  had  now  two  tricks,  with  ace,  and  nine  of 
trumps  left,  the  game  seemed  no  longier  doubtful-^she 
showed  her  cards,  while  an  eager  hand  was  Extended 
from  behind  her  to  grasp  the  heaps  of  gold  on  the  op- 
posite side. 

"  Un  instant,  Monsieur,"  ssud  the  young  English- 
man, arresting  his  movement ;  then  addressing  his  op^ 
ponent,  "  Play,  madam,  if  you  please." 

•*  By  all  means,  if  you  wish  it,"  she  replied,  in  the 
purest  English  possible  ;  "  but  I  should  think  it  use- 
less." 

She  played  the  ace,  he  won  it  with  the  queen,  and, 
to  the  surprise  and  dismay  of  the  opposite  party,  showed 
the  ten. 

The  passions  of  hope  and  fear  now  changed  sides  in 
an  instant ;  the  score  of  the  Englishman  was,  in  conse- 
quence of  his  being  forced  and  marking  the  king,  quite 
equal  to  that  of  his  adversary.  One  consolation — nay, 
almost  certainty,  remained  to  the  opposite  party — it  was 
the  lady's  deal  She  took  up  the  cards,  and  as  she  put 
them  together,  fixed  her  eyes  upon  the  Englishman, 
and,  complimenting  him  in  his  own  language  on  hi:; 
knowledge  of  the  game,  drew  his  attention  entirely  frpm 
the  board.  ^ 

^'  Melez  bien  les  cartes,"  whispered  a  voice  in  his  ear, 
as  she  presented  the  pack  to  be  cut,  a^  ■..?,  , 


r 


l^CART^. 


163 


The  young  man  took  up  the  cards  mih  an  affected 
air  of  distraction,  and  continued  to  shuffle  them  for  a 
moment,  as  he  replied  to  her  compliment. 

The  countenances  of  the  adverse  party  became  sud- 
denly clouded,  and  several  of  the  men  ground  their 
teeth,  and  evinced  every  s3nnptom  of  rage  and  disap- 
pointment. Even  the  polite  player  herself  seemed 
vexed,  for  she  observed,  with  evident  pique— 
V  "  You  will  certainly  wear  out  the  cards  if  you  con- 
tinue to  bhuffle  them  in  that  manner." 

''I  dare  say  Madame  Astelli  will  supply  us  with 
others,"  said  the  Englishman. 

:  The  cards  were  now  cut,  the  usual  number  dealt, 
and  the  hearts  of  several,  who  had  staked  very  large 
sums,  beat  high  with  expectation.  The  dealer  slowly 
turned  up  the  comer  of  the  trump  card,  as  if  fearful  to 
ascertain  the  result.  "  C^est  le  roi"  said  a  voice  be- 
hind her :  "  nom  avons  gagnes"  shouted  others,  and 
their  countenances  again  brightened.  The  card  was 
Anally  turned  and  thrown  upon  the  table — ^it  was  the 
queen,  and  again  they  were  dismayed. 

The  Englishman  took  up  his  hand;  he  looked  at 
the  first  card,  the  second,  the  third,  the  fourth.  They 
were  all  small  ones,  without  a  trump — ^the  hopes 
of  his  party  died  away ;  their  anxious  countenances 
betrayed  little  chance  of  success  ;  and  their  adver- 
saries, who  had  devoured  their  features  with  their  eyes, 
were  filled  with  the  conviction  of  their  success.  The 
Knglishman  rose  to  yield  his  seat  *  to  another,  and 
HS  he  did  so,  one  of  the  opposite  betters  turned  the  re- 
maining card  in  a  sort  of  wild  triumph — it  was  the  king 
of  trumps.  The  fury  of  the  opposite  party  was  now  ex- 
treme ;  some  stamped  violently — others  uttered  excla- 
mations of  despair— and  as  they  beheld  the  Englishman 
lUstributing  the  Wealth,  which  they  had  an  instant  before 
considered  as  their  own,  they  secretly  cursed  him  and 
his  good  fortune,  in  all  the  bitterness  of  their  hearts. 
Some,  to  give  their  passion  full  vent,  began  to  abuse  the 
individual  of  their  own  party,  who  had  turned  up  the  last 
t-ard,  and  in  this  they  all  speedily  joined.  Women,  glit- 


164 


^CARTlS. 


tering  in  jewels,,  and  men  covered  with  ribbands,  were 
alike  Ic  d  in  their  clamours  against  his  interference. 

"  Que  diahle  voulez-vousy''  he  replied,  in  nearly  as 
great  a  state  of  excitement  as  themselves ;  "  qui  aurait 
peme  que  ce  maudit  roi  y  fut  cache,  amsi  fCai-je  pas 
assez  perdu  nwi-meme  V 

No  one  could  deny  this,  for  his  stake,  next  to  that  of 
the  player,  had  been  the  largest ;  and,  after  a  little  time, 
the  party  were  soothed  into  something  like  calmness, 
though  by  far  the  greater  part  of  the  high  betters  had 
retired  in  disgust  and  disappointment  at  their  loss. 

"Who  is  that  lady?"  observed  Clifford,  conducting 
his  companion  to  an  Ottoman,  as  the  female  rose  to  va- 
cate her  seat  for  the  next  player. 

"  That,"  said  Adeline,  "  is  the  Princesse  de  S . 

n  n! arrive  pas  souvent  qu^elle  perd^  she  continued,  sig- 
nificantly. 

"  How  !"  said  our  hero,  in  a  tone  of  surprise,  and 
without  paying  particular  attention  to  the  latter  part  of 

her  remark  ;  "the  Princesse  de  S at  Madanie  As- 

telli's  parties  ?" 

"  Even  so,"  rejoined  Adeline,  smiling  ;  "but  do  not 
look  so  completely  the  image  of  astonisl^ment.     It  is 

not  the  Princesse  de  S ,  whose  beauty  is  so  much 

the  subject  of  remark  in  all  the  higher  Parisian  circles, 
and  of  whom  you  doubtless  have  heard,  but  a  ci-devant 
ehlreamie  of  the  prince — Elle  li'eii  jjorte  que  le  iwrn,'' 
she  concluded. 

"  And  how  does  she  presume  to  do  that,"  inquired 
Delmaine,  "  when  another  not  only  claims,  but  enjoys 
the  distinction  ?" 

"  Oh,  that  is  the  custom  here,"  replied  his  compa- 
nion ;  "  you  have  only  to  look  around  you,  to  see  fifty 
rich  and  beautiful  women,  who  have  never  been  mar- 
ried, and  yet  they  are  saluted  and  known,  one  as  Ma- 
dame la  Marquise  this,  and  another  as  Madame  la  Ba- 
vonne  that,  and  Madame  la  Comtesse  the  other  ;  these 
are  little  appropriations,  arising  out  of  past  or  present 
Unisons,  and  are  courteously  acknowledged  by  both 


■  -;■  / 


^CART^. 


leu 


?  nom, 


men  and  women.  They  give  an  air  of  greater  ton  and 
respectability  to  these  little  reunions^  and  pass  current 
in  every  society  of  this  description/* 

Delmaine  listened  in  silent  amazement ;  he  knew  not 
what,  most  to  be  surprised  at — ^the  nature  of  the  infor- 
mation thus  obtained,  or  the  cool,  indifferent,  and  mat- 
ter-of-course like  manner  in  which  it  was  communi- 
cated. 

"  And  are  all  the  women  here  of  that  description  ?" 
he  inquired ;  "  are  all  without  any  othrr  claim  to  re- 
spect, than  that  which  is  accorded  them  by  the  caprice 
of  society  ?" 

Adeline  coloured,  as  he  fixed  his  penetrating  yet  sof- 
tened gaze  on  her  countenance.  "  Oh,  by  no  means," 
she  continued,  laughing,  and  recovering  herself;  "  here 
are  many  women  who  have  a  legal  claim  to  respectabi- 
lity, if  you  mean  that ;  but  they  are,  for  the  most  part, 
women  of  a  certain  age,  who,  having  exhausted  every 
pleasure  at  home,  have  recourse  to  the  never-ceasing 
stimulus  of  play.  These  women  could  not  exist  without 
their  bouillotte  twice  a  week,  and  their  ecarte  every  night. 
They  are  often  accompanied  by  their  daughters,  and 
these—-"     ^vi?^'^:-:  ■■-v:l.-._y : -r.- 

She  paused,  as  if  unwilling  to  conclude  a  sentence, 
into  which  she  had  been  involuntarily  led  by  the  chain 
of  her  remarks. 

"  And  these"  repeated  Delmaine,  wsuting  for  the 
termination  with  evident  impatience. 

"  And  these,"  said  Adeline,  again  colouring,  and 
dropping  her  eyes,  "  often  meet  with  agreeable  men — 
suffer  their  senses  to  be  sd|dued  by  the  intoxicating  in- 
fluente  of  the  surrounding  scene— inhale  the  breath  of 
incipient  passion,  and  are  lost." 

Clifford  saw  her  tremble ;  her  large,  dark-fringed 
eyes  were  nearly  closed  ;  his  own,  filled  with  tenderness 
and  passion,  were  fixed  on  her  fascinating  countenance ; 
he  pressed  the  arm  which  still  lingered  on  his  ;  the  fair 
soft  hand  of  the  young  girl  replied  to  that  pressure. 

-"  Je  V0U8  adore"  he  murmured,  in  tones  subdued 


/;• 


m- 


166 


ISCART^. 


to  a  whisper.  Adeline  unclosed  her  eyes ;  a  smile  of 
unspeakable  softness  played  upon  her  features. 

"  Est-cevrai?"  she  scarcely  breathed, — "  est-ce  Men 
vrai  9 — oA,  oui,je  le  crois.^^ 

Delraaine  was  deeply  excited  ;  he  looked  up  for  ^  mo- 
ment, to  regain  self-command ; — had  abasilisk  appeared 
before  him,  he  could  not  have  felt  more  dismayed,  than 
by  the  sight  of  the  object  his  eyes  now  encountered. 
Standing  near  the  card-table,  with  folded  arms,  and 
eyes  intently  fixed  on  himself  and  his  companion,  he 
beheld  Dormer.  ^ 

^^  Qu'nvez-vous  doncT^  tenderly  inquired  Adeline,' 
almost  terrified  at  the  sudden  start  he  had  given  ;  "  etes- 
vous  indispose  ?"  ' 

But  the  charm  which  lately  lingered  in  the  accents  of 
her  voice  was  gone ;  the  illusion,  at  least  for  the  mo- 
ment, was  dispelled ;  he  saw  her  not  now  with  the  eyes 
of  impassioned  tenderness,  for  he  felt  that  consciousness 
of  error,  which  not  only  sinks  us  in  our  own  estimation,' 
but  makes  us  often  hate  those  by  whom  it  is  produced. 

He  cooly,  yet  politely,  observed,  "  That  he  had  been 
affected  by  a  sudden  spasm,  but  that  it  was  passed." 

When  he  looked  again,  the  spot  where  his  friend  had 
been  standing  the  instant  before  was  vacant ;  a  feeling 
of  disappointment  rushed  across  his  mind,  and  he  felt 
angry  with  Dormer,  with  himself,  and  with  the  whole 
world.     He  was,  however,  resolved  to  speak  to  him. 

Turning  to  excuse  himself  to  Adeline,  he  was  struck 
by  the  extreme  paleness  of  her  cheek,  and  the  air  of 
sadness  and  mortified  feeling  which  overshadowed  her 
features.  She  turned  her  eytte  upon  him  for  a  moment; 
they  were  dimmed  with  rising  tears,  and  their  expression 
was  that  of  silent  and  gentle  reproach. 

Could  Clifibrd  endure  this.  His  warm,  his  generous 
nature,  shrunk  from  the  idea  of  giving  pain  to  any  wo- 
man— how  much  more,  to  one  so  gentle  and  so  beauti- 
ful as  the  being  before  him  ! 

^*  What  is  the  matter  f"  he  exclaimed,  impetuously, 


".  i .  'i'  -■■'-'  /  >■ '.' 


^CART^. 


161 


all  his  former  feeling  rushing  with  ten-fold  violence  on 
his  heart ;  "  say,  what  is  the  matter  ?" 

The  colour  came  again  into  her  cheek — the  shadows  : 
which  had  an  instant  lingered  over  her  fair  countenance, 
vanished  like  dew  before  the  sun  ;  she  smiled  through 
her  tears,  and  raised  her  eyes  to  his. 

"  Nothing,"  she  replied  ;  "  1  only  thought  that  you 
spoke  harshly  to  me,  and  that  idea  was  sufficient  in  itself 
to  give  me  pain." 

"  Give  you  pain  !"  emphatically  returned  Clifford  : 
"  I  would  rather  die  than  give  you  pain ;  my  thoughts 
were  wandering  at  the  moment,  and  I  knew  not  what  I 
said."  ' 

"  Say  no  more,"  murmured  Adeline,  "  I  am  satisfied ; 
but  let  us  walk  a  little." 

Rising  from  the  ottoman,  they  passed  through  the 
suite  of  card-rooms,  every  table  in  which  was  surround- 
ed in  the  manner  already  described ;  Delmaine  looked 
on  every  hand  for  his  friend,  but  he  was  nowhere  to  be 
seen.  He  went  into  the  ball-room,  but  there  he  met 
with  no  better  success.  Unable  to  overcome  the  gloom 
and  disappointment  which  continued  to  assail  him,  he 
sought  to  forget  them  in  the  excitement  of  the  waltz. — 
In  this  he  was  more  fortunate,  for  as  he  felt  the  yielding 
form  of  his  partner  blend  itself  as  it  were  with  his  own, 
while  his  encircling  arm  embraced  the  full  contour  of 
her  person,  the  rich  perfume  of  her  breath  playing  upon 
liis  burning  cheek,  every  thing,  save  the  pleasure  of  the 
moment — the  certainty^ of  present  happiness — was  for-, 
gotten. 

The  waltz  concluded,  they  lounged  again  into  the 
card-room,  Clifford  looking  vainly  on  every  hand  to 
discover  his  friend  among  the  crowd. 

^\A  propos,^''  .suddenly  exclaimed  his  companion, 
'*  you  have  not  yet  been  presented  to  the  lady  of  the 
house." 

They  moved  towards  a  card-table  at  the  further  ex- 
tremity of  the  room.  De  Forsac,  and  the  tall,  dark  man, 
already  alluded  to  as  one  of  the  betters  for  the  soi-disant 


168 


tCkCTt. 


PrinceBse  de  S— ,  were  the  players.  On  a  low  otto- 
man near  the  table  sat  a  female  elegantly  attired,  re- 
splendent in  diamonds,  and  other  rich  ornaments.  Her 
complexion  wore  the  rich  hues  peculiar  to  the  daughters 
of  Italy.  Her  eyes  were  dark,  large,  and  sparkling ;  a 
tiara  of  diamonds  and  other  precious  stones  encircled 
her  brow,  and  imperfectly  confined  the  rich  masses  of 
her  jet  black  hair.  A  splendid  dress  of  White  satin, 
bordered  with  jewels  that  sparkled  in  the  light  like  my- 
riads of  small  stars,  rather  developed  than  concealed  the 
full  beauty  of  her  form,  while  ta  chain  of  brilliants  en- 
circled her  neck,  terminated  by  a  small  diamond  cross, 
which  lingered  on  her  bosom,  rendering  its  fairness  even 
more  fair  by  the  contrast  i  a  small  mother-of-pearl 
basket,  filled  with  counters,  a  tablet  of  the  same  mate- 
rial, and  a  gold  pencil-case,  lay  at  her  side.  As  they 
approached,  she  arose,  and,  bending  her  fine  form  for  a 
moment  over  the  table,  while  she  extended  an  arm  mould- 
ed with  the  utmost  symmetry,  and  of  a  dazzling  white- 
ness, dropped  a  mother-of-pearl  fish  from  her  delicate 
fingers. 

"Who  is  that  superb  woman?"  cried  Delmaine,  un- 
able to  suppress  his  admiration  and  surprise. 

"Superb!"  echoed  his  companion,  with  something- 
like disappointment ;  "  that  is  Madame  Astelli  herselT' 
— she  pursued,  after  a  slight  pause — "  but  I  must  intro- 
duce you." 

Still  hanging  on  the  arm  of  our  hero,  she  now  ap- 
proached, and  whispered  something  in  the  ear  of  their 
hostess.  Astelli  immediately  turned  her  large  and  elo- 
quent eyes  upon  him  with  a  look  of  anxious  interest,  and 
received  his  compliments  with  a  mingled  grace,  dignity, 
and  sweetness,  that  astonished  liim.  He  had  expected 
to  see  a  woman  advanced  in  years,  and  of  uncourteous 
bearing;  but  here  was  one  whose  manner,  carriage, 
style,  and  beauty,  would  have  graced  a  drawing-room, 
even  amid  the  brightest  galaxy  of  fashion  and  aristo- 
cracy. 

While  he  yet  lingered  indolently  09  the  ottoman  on 


\^ 


;/ 


LCART^. 


169 


which  he  had  thrown  himself  at  the  side  of  Adeline, 
and  suffered  his  eye  to  wander  over  the  various  groups, 
whose  chief  study  seemed  to  be  pleasure,  whose  whole 
existence  excitement,  he  saw  Madame  Astelli  again  ap- 
proach a  different  card-tabie  with  her  little  basket  of 
ivory  counters— she  dropped  one  among  the  heap  which 
already  lay  before  one  of  the  players,  who,  having  lost 
the  game,  was  in  the  act  of  moving  from  his  seat. 

"  Cela  fait  dix  passes^  Monsieur ^^^  she  remarked, 
gracefully  inclining  her  head  as  she  spoke. 

"  Mais  nout  Madame,^*  was  the  reply ;  "^c  n*ai 
passe  que  nueffois" 

"  Pardonnez-^moiy  Monsieur,  je  les  ai  Men  comptees, 
etje  vous  assure  que  vous  avez  pa^se  dixfins,^^  she  mild- 
ly observed. 

"  MaiSf  Madame,  vous  vous  trompez;  je  repete  que 
je  n^ai  passe  me  neuf  fois." 

"  Cela  sufflt,  Monsieur  ;  n^en  parlous  plus,^^  was  the 
calm  reply.  The  voice  had  betrayed  the  player  to  be 
Monsieur  De  Warner,  though  his  huge  frame  was  hid 
from  Clifford  by  the  dense  crowd  of  men  and  women  by 
whom  he  was  surrounded. 

"  ^uel  scene P"*  obsei-ved  a  lady  at  the  table;  "  com- 
ment pouvez-vous  faire  tant  de  fracas  pour  une  passe, 
Capitaine9"  vvf 

"  Je  rtefais  pas  de  tracas,  Madame,  mats  je  n'aimi 
pasqu'on  me  trompe,^*  he  gruffly  observed,  offering  a 
Napoleon  to  the  hostess.  Astelli  received  the  gold, 
gave  him  two  francs  in  return,  sighed,  withdrew  to  her 
seat,  and  reclined  her  head  for  a  moment  on  her  hand. 

"  What  is  the  meaning  of  all  this  ?"  inquired  our 
hero,  who  had  heard  the  discussion,  and  witnessed  the 
exchange  of  money,  without  being  able  to  comprehend 
the  scene.  -j--^;^'- :_ -..t "  ■^:.4  ■■• 

"  Ah,  this  collecting  of  passes  is  the  most  dtsagreea* 
ble  part  of  the  whole  affair,"  replied  his  companion. 
*'  Les  hommes  de  ban  ton  les  patent  toujours  sans  dkcur 
ter—mais  pour  les  autres — " 

VOL.  I.        y  ,      -■    .-•         15        .v..        .;..•..     .    -   ,., 


;  «.". 


^1 


170 


l^CARTl^. 


"  What,  and  do  you  not  consider  De  Warner  ten 
homme  de  ban  tonT*  inquired  Clifford,  eagerly. 

"/«  Vai  en  horrewr:  he  was  an  officer  in  the  regi- 
ment of  cuirassiers  which  my  father  commanded,  and  at 
such,  being  intimate  with  mamma,  he  sometimes  speaks 
to  me ;  but  I  dislike  him,  personally,  beyond  measure." 

Clifford  thought  he  liked  Adeline  more  than  ever  at 
that  moment.  '*  But  let  me  understand,"  he  pursued, 
"  the  secret  of  these  passes" 

"  In  the  first  place,"  said  his  companion,  "  you  must 
know  that  all  these  establishments  are  supported  by  cer- 
tain contributions ;  or  how  could  the  proprietors  indem- 
nify themselves  for  the  expenses  incurred  in  wax-lights, 
cards,  and  refreshments?  Most  of  them  receive  com- 
pany every  evening,  and  on  those  nights  which  are  not 
distinguished  by  any  particular  preparation  or  great 
assemblage  of  persons,  the  passes  are  fixed  at  half  a 
franc.  It  is  true  that  no  great  profit  can  arise  from  so 
small  a  remuneration  for  cards  and  lights,  a  glass  of 
eau  sucrie^  or  lemonade,  yet  it  does  remunerate  them ; 
and  so  necessary  is  the  presjgnce  of  company  to  those 
whom  habit  has  rendered  slaves  to  society,  that  they 
would  rather  even  sustain  a  trifling  loss  than  not  have 
them  at  all.  To  these  reunions  all  the  frequenters  of 
the  several  salons  have  the  entree  without  ceremony ; 
but,  two  nights  in  the  week,  it  is  usual  to  pay  the  com- 
pliment of  a  regular  invitation,  when  both  ladies  and 
gentlemen  are  expected  to  appear  en  costumd  de  hal, 
whether  there  is  a  ball  or  not.  On  these  occasions,  as 
the  assembly  is  usually  very  numerous,  many  card- 
taBles  are  set  out,  and  the  parses  are  fixed  at  a  franc, 
which,  as  the  game  occupies  but  a  very  short  space  of 
time,  accumulates  to  a  large  sum,  and  oflen  produces 
from  five  to  six  hundred  francs — an  amount  sufficient  to 
defray  the  expenses  of  the  evening,  and  to  leave  a  very 
fair  profit.  It  is  true  there  is  always  an  excellent  supper, 
but  that  is  paid  for  by  the  gentlemen,  who  deposit  five 
francs  each  with  a  person  placed  in  the  anti-chamhrt 
for  the  purpose  of  receiving  the  entrance  money." 


(<    -, 


tCAKH. 


171 


'<  I  rather  think  De  Foriac  paid  a  Napoleon  for  us 
both,"  observed  Cliflford. 

"  Yes,  because  here  the  supper  Is  alwavi  ten  francs, 
exclusive  of  fine  wines;  but  Atttelli's  parties  are  of  the  ' 
first-rate  order,  and  a  greater  degree  of  luxury  and 
splendour  reigns  throughout  her  apartments,  than  in 
those  of  any  other  propriitaire  in  Paris.     On  ordinary  ' 
occasions  the  pasaes  here  are  a  franc,  and  tliis  insures  a 
more  select  society,  for  there  are  nmny  persons  not  ex- 
actly admissible,  who  do,  however,  contrive  to  get  ad- 
mitted.    Tliese  shrink  from  the  idea  of  paying  a  franc 
for  a  passe,  when  elsewhere  thev  are  charged  but  half 
that  amount,  and  make  their  selection  accordingly." 

<'  Even,  I .  suppose,"  interrupted  our  hero,  "  when 
each  passe  Is  the  means  of  bringing  them  in  large  sums 
obtained  by  their  bets  ?' ' 

♦'  Precisely  so,"  she  proceeded;  "  buithere  is  a  close- 
ness, an  avidity  of  gain,  so  deeply  engrafted  in  the  minds 
of  many  of  these  people,  that  they  cannot  refrain  from 
coveting  sous,  even  while  they  are  filling  their  purses 
with  billets  de  banque.  On  gala  nights,  here  we  are 
almost  secure  from  these  intrusions ;  for  independently 
of  the  fact  of  its  being  considered  pen  comenahle  to  ap- 
pear without  an  invitation,  the  very  circumstance  of  the 
passes  being  at  two  francs,  would,  in  4ts^if^  be  sufficient 
to  deter  them." 

"  How  happens  it  then,"  remarked  Ciitford,  "  that 
where  the  society  is  so  select  as  you  describe  it  to  be, 
such  shameful  discussions  as  that  we  have  just  v^itnessed, 
should  arise?" 

"  These  are  by  no  means  usual  here,  though  not  un- 
frequent  elsewhere,"  she  observed;  "but  the  fact  is, 
that  monstre  (Thontme  conducts  himself  like  a  bear  on  all 
occasions :  and  you  may  see  that  Astelli  is  not  used  to 
such  scenes,  from  the  manner  in  which  she  seems  tp 
feel  it." 

Delmaine  glanced  at  the  dark  cheek  of  his  hostess : 
she  caught  and  understood  the  expression  of  his  eye, 
and  smiling  faintly,  as  she  disclosed  a  set  of  beautiful 


■' . .  ;*? 


♦-»>iSf*^' 


,    Z**-"! 


I      < 


' '  ;4KiJUl^M^' 


%i> 


;'i  I   iiiiMbliHttf- " 'j/ ».^ 4«^    Mi.ii>i»in.>v>l»,.«^.4~^.a.r,' 


..^,. 


itre 


I^CARTl^. 


teeth,  seemed  to  say,  even  as  plainly  as  language  Gonld 
convey  the  impression,  "  I  feel  your  sympathy,  and  am 
grateful  for  the  interest  you  take  in  my  behalf." 

"  These,"  continued  Adeline,  "  are  almost  the  only 
tracasseries  to  which  they  are  subject.  In  every  other 
sense,  the  life  of  Astelli,  like  the  lives  of  sevrj*al  others, 
is  one  continued  round  of  pleasure  and  excitement; 
moreover,  in  common  with  most  of  the  women  you  see 
here,  she  is  in  perfectly  easy  circumstances  as  far  as  re- 
lates to  property." 

"How  strange,  then,"  observed  our  hero,  "that,  pos- 
sessed of  independence,  as  you  describe  her  to  be,  she 
shoulit  seek  to  increase  it  by  means  which  are  certain- 
ly not  the  most  respectable."  r^kitv  H^ 

"By  no  means  strange,"  returned  Adeline ;  "how 
else  could  she  contrive  to  keep  up  this  splendid  estab- 
lishment, and  assemble  at  stated  periods  within  her  sa- 
lons, all  that  is  most  beautiful  and  attractive  in  Paris 
among  the  women — all  that  is  most  fashionable  and 
wealthy  among  the  men  ?  Moreover,  in  what  society 
can  the  laws  of  decorum  be  more  scrupulously  observ- 
ed ?  Astelli,  likewise,  is  fond  of  play  herself,  and  the 
profits  arising  from  her  parties,  are  almost  universally 
swallowed  up  at  the  card-tables  of  her  friends  ;  and 
thus  it  is  with  most  of  these  proprietors  :  they  specu- 
late upon  their  profits,  but  do  not  suffer  themselves  to 
touch  any  part  of  their  immediate  incomes.  Each  at- 
tends ihe  soirees  of  the  other,  and  they  are  not  unfre- 
quently  the  highest  betters  in  the  room.  They  have, 
however,  another  object  in  view,  and  that  is  to  procure 
recruits.  All  are  invariably  provided  with  cards  of  ad- 
dress, and  whenever  they  see  a  young  man,  whose  ap- 
pearance indicates  fashion  and  wealth,  they  do  not  fail 
to  enter  into  conversation  with  him,  present  him  with  an 
address,  and  solicit  his  attendance  at  some  particular 
soiree  o'C their  own,  already  previously  determined  on. 
There  are  no  less  than  a  dozen  of  these  people  now  in 
the  room ;  and  I  can  tell,  from  the  manner  in  which  that 


ificART^. 


173 


ludy  regards  you,  that  she  has  ahready  set  you  down  for 
her  next  party."  .v-v._ ,; ; ; ;;  '>^" ^'; '■^;-'-]^^>v?ni;  -  ■, 

As  she  spoke,  she  pointed  to  a  soft-^yed,  dark  wo- 
man, of  good  figure,  who  was  then  playing  at  one  of 
the  nearest  tables,  and  whom  Clifford  had  repeatedly  re- 
marked directing  her  eyes  towards  him,  while  she  occa- 
sionally addressed  herself  to  a  gentleman  near  her  with 
the  air  of  one  who  asks  for  information. 

In  a  few  minutes  she  relinquished  her  seat,  paid  her 
passes,  and,  approaching  Adeline^  whispered  something 
in  her  ear.  '  '     •  : 

"  Monsieur  Delmaine,"  said  the  young  girl,  looking 
archly  aside  at  him,  ^^permettez  qtte  je  vous  presente 
Madame  Bourdeaux.^^ 

Our  hero  bowed,  Madame  Bourdeaux  curtsied  low- 
made  some  obsei*vation  about  the  party — inquired  how 
long  he  had  been  in  Paris — declared  that  she  would  be 
enchanted  to  see  him — drew  a  card  from  her  case,  and 
observing  that  she  gave  a  bal  pare  twice  a  week,  ex?- 
pressed  a  hope  that  he  would  honour  her  with  his  pre- 
sence on  the  following  Wednesday.  Delmaine  took  the 
card,  promised  to  do  himself  the  pleasure,  and  Madame 
Bourdeaux  retired  to  a  distant  part  of  the  room,  where 
she  was  introduced  to  another  gentleman  in  the  same 
manner,  gave  the  same  invitation,  and  then  quietly  sat 
herself  down  at  the  first  ecarte  tuble,  when  she  again 
commenced  betting  and  playing. 

"  This  then  is  the  matter  of  course  sort  of  way  in 
which  these  things  are  managed?"  observed  our  hero, 
inquiringly. 

"  Precisely  so,"  returned  his  companion;  "  afad  thus 
you  may  judge  of  all.  I  knew,  half  an  hour  ago,  that 
Madame  Bourdeaux  had  a  design  upon  you ;  but  be- 
ware," she  added,  while  her  large  eyes  were  raised  to 
his  with  an  expression  of  irresistible  softness,  "  beware 
of  consequences :  Madame  Bourdeaux  is  notorious  for 
her  penchant  pour  les  heaux  hmmnes,  and  she  has  just 
whispered  in  my  ear  that  she  finds  you  infinitely  to  her 
liking."  ,  ,    . 

■     15* 


m^ 

"*)•».:' 


174 


£CART^. 


Clifford's  reply  was  prevented  by  the  approach  of  De 
Forsac,  who  asked  if  he  would  occupy  Uie  place  he  had 
Just  quitted  at  an  ka/rU  table* 

"  I  know  nothing  of  the  game,"  he  remarked ;  **  I 
never  even  saw  it  played  before  to-night."  ^^ 

**  No  matter,"  said  De  Forsac, "  Mademoiselle  Dorje* 
ville  and  I  will  instruct  you.  I  wish  you  would  oblige 
me,"  he  continued,  observing  the  evident  reluctance  of 
our  hero.  '*  I  have  lost  a  good  deal  of  money,  and  de- 
pend upon  you  to  retrieve  it  for  me." 

"  And  why  depend  ^n  me,  who  am  quite  a  novice  at 
the  game .?" 

^*'  It  is  precisely  because  you  are  a  novice  at  it,  that 
I  do  depend  upon  you.  I  never  yet  knew  a  man, 
ignorant  of  play,  who  was  not  sure  to  win." 

"  EssayeZi^  whispered  Adeline,  in  the  same  soft  tones 
of  voice,  ^^etje  vom  dotmerai  des  conseils." 
r  This  immediately  decided  him.     He  approached  the 
table,  Adeline  took  a  chair  at  one  side,  while  the  mar- 
quis seated  himself  at  the  other. 

Our  hero  found  himself  opposed  to  the  Princesse  de 
S  ,  who  most  graciously  presented  the  cards  to  him 
to  cut  for  the  deal,  at  the  same  time  making  seme  re- 
mark, in  English,  on  the  almost  certainty  she  felt  of  be- 
ing beaten. 

"  Melez  bien  les  cartes  i  sapolitesse  est  danger^ef'' 
whispered  Adeline.  ;  ?  -  ir^  -  V 

,  Clifford  did  as  he  was  desired,  although  unable  to 
account  for  the  caution,  and  in  a  few  minutes  his  adver- 
sary relinquished  her  seat  to  another  player,  who  was 
also  beaten.  Fortune  seemed  to  smile  upon  our  hero, 
who  had  a  decided  veim  in  his  favour.  Madame  de 
S— — ,  whose  stakes  were  extremely  high,  entered  several 
times  against  him,  but  without  effect :  he  turned  or  marked 
the  king  almost  every  time.  De  Forsac  had  not  only 
retrieved  his  losses,  but  was  now  a  winner  of  a  large 
sum,  and  he  advised  Clifford,  whose  winnings  were  also 
large,  to  imitate  his  example  and  increase  his  stakes. 
Dehnaine  followed  his  counsel ;  he  had  passed  fourteen 


■4ji(«'-' 


J  ^    _i-r^-.:::/  ij-  i.i 


^OARTlg. 


lis 


ofDe 

he  h»d 

,   *_ 
id;  «I 

Dorje* 
oblige 
ance  of 
and  de- 
vice at 

it,  that 
a  man, 

)ft  tones 


times,  and  he  now  threw  nearly  all  his  winnings  on  the 
table.  Irritated  at  their  losses,  and  filled  with  the  hope 
of  retrieving,  in  one  game,  what  had  been  lost  in  many, 
their  opponents  eagerly  seized  the  opportunity  for  cover- 
ing the  stakes.  The  tall,  dark  man,  previously  alluded 
to,  held  the  cards  for  them,  and  it  was  our  hero's  turn 
to  deal. 

His  adversary  took  up  his  hand,  and  ailer  looking 
cautiously  over  it,  said,  "  Je  demande  des  cartes^  Mon- 
sieur.''^ 

"  Cofobieitf  Monsieur  9"  was  the  question. 

"  Une carte"  replied  the  other,  taking  at  the  same 
time  what  appeared  to  be  a  single  card  from  his  hand, 
and  placing  it  carefully  on  the  table. 

Clifford  felt  his  knee  touched  by  that  of  Adeline  at 
the  moment,  in  such  a  manner  as  to  satisfy  him  that  it 
was  intended  for  an  admonitory  or  precautionary  signal. 
He  turned  to  ascertain  the  motive,  but  as  she  had  no 
stake  down,  she  was  not  at  liberty  to  speak — she  merely 
looked  at  him,  and  then  glanced  significantly  towards  the 
cards  which  his  adversary  had  thrown  down:  Clifford 
took  the  hint.  "  How  many  have  you  discarded  ?"  he 
Inquired  of  his  opponent. 

"  One  card,"  was  the  reply. 

Delmaine  said  nothing,  but  taking  from  his  hand  the 
cards  which  he  intended  to  throw  away,  contrived  so  to 
place  them  on  the  table,  that  in  the  act  his  arm  came  in 
contact  with  the  ecart  of  his  adversary.  This  unexpect- 
ed movement  disclosed  two  cards  instead  of  one. 

The  adverse  party  looked  disappointed ;  and  the  smile 
which  had  only  the  instant  before  illuminated  the  sallow 
countenance  of  the  Commandant,  a  title  by  which  he 
had  been  addressed,  was  succeeded  by  a  frown. 

"  how  is  this,  sir  ?'  inquired  ouriiero,  fixing  his  eyes 
upon  him.  "  Here  are  two  cards— I  thought  you  had 
discarded  but  one  ?" 

"  It  was  a  mistake,"  answerd  the  Commandantt "  you 
must  deal  again." 

The  mistake  was  soon  explained  by  th^  $iccidenta1 


ill 


m 


..M^, 


x: 


176 


iScARt]^. 


expose  of  his  hand,  which  was  fonnd  to  consist  of  the 
king  and  four  oUier  trumps.  Clifibrd  had  originally 
given  him  six.  cards:  the  king,  and  four  other  trumps, 
and  the  king  of  another  suit.  As  playing  with  six  cards 
would  inevitably  have  led  to  a  detection  of  the  error,  and 
compromised  the  almost  certainty  he  entertained  of  mark- 
ing three  points  in  the  game,  it  was,  of  course,  necessary  to 
discard  a  low  trump,  in  order  to  rid  himself  of  this  trouble- 
some sixth  card.  Placing  one  completely  over  the  other, 
he  had  contrived  to  make  two  appear  as  one — a  rme  in 
which  he  was,  however,  soon  detected  by  the  quick  eye 
of  Adeline,  who  had  watched  the  movement. 

It  was  evident  to  Delmaine  that  there  was  something 
more  than  mere  accident  in  this  circumstance,  and  the 
recollection  of  all  that  Dormer  had  said  to  him  on  the 
subject  flashed  across  his  mind.  With  this  came  other 
thoughts,  and  other  impressions,  which  induced  feelings 
of  regret  and  shame,  and  he  longed  for  the  termination 
of  the  game.  Scarcely  knowing  how  he  played>  or  what  he 
played,  his  good  fortune  still  attended  him,  and  he  won 
the  partie,  without  his  adversary  being  able  to  score  a 
single  point.  Very  large  sums  had  been  staked  against 
De  Forsac  and  himself,  and  these  were  now  pocketed, 
much  to  the  consternation  of  the  opposite  party. 

He  was  now  about  to  relinquish  his  seat,  when  he 
found  himself  suddenly  assailed  by  a  host  of  tongues, 
both  male  and  female. .  y  <    .  v  :  , 

"  Quoi,  Monsieur!  pensez-vous  partir  comme  cela, 
apres  avoir  gagne  tout  notre  argent  ?"  said  a  lady,  whose 
cheek  was  highly  flushed  with  the  excitement  produced 
by  her  losses.  ^  >  "^^ 

"  PlaisanteZ'Vous,  Monsieur  V Anglais  9"  pertly  de- 
manded a  young  girl  of  fifteen,  w  ho,  seated  by  her  mo- 
ther, had  been  losing  her  single  franc  stakes  during  the 
veine  of  our  hero. 

*  "  Mais,  Monsieur,  on  ne  fait  pas  comme  cela  en 
France,^^  observed  a  man,  equally  inflamed  with  disap- 
pointment and  anger. 

^^  A-t-on  jamais  rw?"  remarked  another,  turning 


'^^fr-' 


tCAKrt, 


m 


round  to  his  nextneighbour,  and  attempting  a  sneer  that 
was  checked  by  his  choleric  humour.  ,:;; 

Clifford's  eye  flashed  fire  as  it  wandered  from  one  to 
the  other  of  the  last  speakers  ;  but  he  might  as  well 
have  attempted  to'set  bounds  to  the  course  of  the  ocean, 
as  to  arrest  the  vivacity^of  a  Frenchman,  when  under  the 
strong  excitement  of  loss  at  play. 

^'  Am  I  of  necessity  compelled  to  play  until  I  lose  f" 
he  inquired  of  De  Forsac.  "  Is  it  a  rule  of  the  game  ?" 
he  pursued,  more  impetuously,  "  fOr  in  no  other  case  do 
I  choose  to  remain." 

De  Forsac  told  him  that  it  was  always  customary  for 
a  player  to  keep  his  seat,  until  he  lost  a  game,  when 
his  place  was  usually  occupied  by  another.  Madame 
Astelli  bowed  a  confirmation.  Satisfied  with  the  assu-. 
ranee,  our  hero  again  sat  down ;  his  opponents  threw 
notes  and  gold  to  a  large  amount  upon  the  table. 

"  What  is  your  stake,  sir  ?"  inquired  Madame  de 
S  ■  ,who  almost  invarilsly  preceded  or  succeeded  the 
Commandant  in  the  game.  "^ 

"  My  stake,  madam,"  replied  Clifford,  in  French, 
'<  is  half  a  franc ;  those  who  bet  for  me  will,  of  course, 
put  down  what  they  please."     Madame  de  S 
bowed.   ''■^■^:.;;i-'.r''^.  '   '>:•■": 

De  Forsac  threw  down  twenty  Napoleons ;  a  few 
other  betters  smaller  sums  :  so  that  in  ail  there  were 
about  fifty  pieces  of  gold  upon  the  table. 

"  Je  Hens  lej'eu"  said  the  Pri 'casse  to  those  around 
her,  at  the  same  time  putting  their  money,  which  had 
been  previously  staked,  on  one  side  of  the  table. 

TJie  men  took  up  th°ir  money  in  a  rage,  while  half 
suppressed  exclamations^  burst  from  their  lips  ;  the  wo- 
men pouted,  fretted,  scolded,  frowned,  and  vented  their 
spleen  by  commenting  among  themselves  on  the  parsi- 
mony of  the  Anglais,  in  putting  down  ten  sous,  when 
he  had  been  a  winner  of  some  thousands  of  francs. 

"  I  hope  he  may  win,"  said  one,  "  he  will  be  so  vexed 
at  getting  only  half  a  franc  for  his  trouble." 

"  I  hope  so,  too,"  replied  another  ;  "  not  only  for 


-» •< 


1* 


ns 


that  reason,  but  that  the  Princesse  may  lose  her  fifty 

"  Louis,  since  she  has  been  so  selfish  as  to  exclude  us  all." 
"  Why  should  you  be  so  ungenerous,  my  dear  Vic- 
torine  ?"  observed  Madame  de  S— — ,  who  had  over- 
heard her,  and  in  the  mildest  tone  imaginable.  "  You 
have  not  been  excluded  more  than  others,  and  you  know 
very  well  that  I  have  lost  money  enough  to-night  to  jus- 
tify my  availing  myself  of  a  privilege  common  to  every 
player." 

Mademoiselle  Victorine  was  for  a  moment  disconcert- 
ed, bui  speedily  recovering  herself,  she  assured  Ma- 
dame t.h  S— —  that  she  had  not  been  serious  in  what 
she  fniti. 

At  length  Clifford    was   unsuccessful :    he  lost  the 

•  fifrt^n«';'aii  ^  many  of  the  opposite  party  were  more  en- 

).'&^iid  at  his  losing  than  they  could  have  been  had  he 

•ainei5.    f  •  the  latter  instance,  they  would  have  con- 

gitaluioi'X'  themselves  in  not  having  put  dov/n  their  mo- 

n?y ;  as  it  was,  they  secretly  cursed  him  for  the  with- 

:^drawal  of  his  originally  large  stakes:  a  disappointment, 
however,  for  which  they  were  only  indebted  to  them- 
selves. It  was  evident,  our  hero  saw,  that  they  were 
sorely  thwarted,  and  annoyed,  and  he  delighted  in  the 
act.  Supper  was  soon  afterwards  announced,  and  they 
repaired  to  the  suite  of  apartments  prepared  for  the  pur- 
pose. 

Nothing  could  be  more  strikingly  illustrative  of  that 
aptitude  to  lose  sight  of  past,  in  present  impressions, 
which  so  completely  distinguishes  the  French  character, 
than  the  appearance  of  the  numerous  groups  now  seated 
round  the  festive  board.  Beautiful  women,  whose 
countenances  had  the  moment  before  been  overcast  with 
unamiable  and  conflicting  feelings,  were  loud  in  the 

■  indulgence  of  their  gayety.  Men,  whose  bo  '^ms  Iiad 
been  recently  torn  with  rage  und  vexation,  now  gave 
vent  to  the  wild  sallies  of  their  imaginations,  and  on 
every  hand  was  to  be  heard  laughter,  repartee,  and  ex- 
pressions of  good  humour.  The  sparkling  wines  of 
Champagne  bubbled  in  every  glass,  and  exhilarating  the 


•^'■'it- 


iiOAfLTt. 


179 


animal   spirits,  drew  wit  and  mirth  from  the  recesses 
in  which  they  had  slumbered,  inspiring  a  freedom,  an  ~ 
abandon^  which  increased  with  each  succeeding  mo- 
ment. 

Each  lady  was  attended  by  a  cavalier,  who  poured 
forth  the  tribute  of  his  admiration,  sometimes  in  soft  and 
whispered  sounds  which  dimmed  for  a  moment  the  bril- 
liancy of  her  dark  and  sparkling  eye,  but  oftener  in 
strains  of  deeper  adulation,  and  evidently  intended  to  be 
overheard  by  those  around.  Clifford  was  seated  be- 
tween Madame  Astelli  and  Adeline :  immediatly  oppo- 
site were  Madame  Bourdeaux  and  De  Forsac.  To 
Astelli,  who  certainly  shone  like  the  presiding  goddess 
of  the  feast,  were  addressed  all  the  more  brilliant  com-  - 
pliments  of  the  young  men  at  her  end  of  the  table  ;  and 
to  these  she  replied  with  a  tact,  a  vivacity,  and  a  free- 
dom, which  sufficiently  denoted  that  she  was  no  stran- 
ger to  the  homage  so  unequivocally  rendered  to  her 
charms.  Whenever  a  compliment  was  paid  to  her,  her 
eyes  fell  on  our  hero  with  a  peculiar  expression,  whicli 
might  have  been  construed,  "  I  hear  and  reply  to  all 
these  things,  but  1  regard  them  not." 

This  did  not  escape  the  quick  eye  of  De  Forsac  ;  and 
more  than  once  his  glance  rested  on  Adeline,  with 
an  expression  of  mingled  reproach,  derision,  and  anger. 

After  supper  the  whole  party,  with  very  few  excep- 
tions, repaired  once  more  to  the  ecarte  tables,  from  whence 
few  of  them  thought  of  departing  until  the  sun  was  far 
above  the  horizon.      ,    <.A  "S'  '"-■'       -  .  ^  If ; ' 4  •  ■  *' 

"  Will  you  not  take  a  glass  of  champagne  with  me  ?" 
said  Astelli  to  our  hero,  in  her  softest  voice,  as  they 
!>till  lingered  at  the  table. 

"  With  the  utmost  pleasure,"  he  returned,  seizing  a 
bottle,  and  pouring  out  the  sparkling  beverage. 

"  You  will  not  leave  us  yet  ?"  she  asked,  inquiringly, 
and  with  an 'air  of  entreaty. 

"  Not  if  you  wish  me  to  reinain,"  replied  Glifford, 
taking  up  his  glass. 


180 


tcAmiE, 


**  Oh  notii  pas  eomme  cela;  trinquona  a  h  Frm- 
gaise"  she  observed,  playfully. 

They  touched  their  glasses;  Adeline,  who  had  been 
conversing  apart  with  De  Forsac,  turned  suddenly  round 
at  the  moment. 

"  Vims  voyez"  muttered  the  marquis,  and,  with  evi- 
dent impatience  in  his  manner,  he  moved  towards  the 
card-room. 

"J^aiuH  malde  teie  defou"  remarked  Adeline,  ap- 
proaching the  table.  "  AstelK^  ma  chere,  il  faut  que 
je  vou*  quitte.  Monsieur  Deltnaine,  auriez-vom%i  bmte 
de  me  conduire9" 

Clifford  instantly  arose — Madame  Astelli  looked  dis- 
appointed. "  J'espere  que  nous  aurons  souvent  le  plaisir 
de  vous  voiTf  Monsieur"  she  at  length  observed. 

Our  hero  declared  himself  delighted  with  his  even- 
ing's amusement,  and  promised  to  return.  Madame 
Astelli  extended  her  hand,  he  shook  it  slightly,  and 
fancied  that  he  felt  its  pressure  on  his  own.  Drawing 
the  arm  of  Adeline  through  his,  he  then  descended  to 
the  vestibule,  where  the  sleepy  porter  was  endeavouring 
to  arouse  the  still  more  sleepy  driver  of  the  first  ^fiacre 
near  them. 

"  La  Rue  de  la  Chaussee  d'Antin,"  said  Adeline,  in 
a  voice  just  loud  enough  to  be  heard  by  the  coachman ; 
and  pulling  up  the  glass,  she  threw  herself  into  an  an- 
gle of  the  carriage,  with  a  seeming  determination  to  pre- 
serve an  obstinate  silence. 

"  Qii'avez-vous  done  ?"  inquired  Clifford,  taking  her 
hand,  which  she  faintly  struggled  to  release. 

"  Ohjje  suis  bien  mallteurettse !"  returned  the  really 
agitated  girl,  bursting  into  tears. 

Delmaine  caught  her  in  his  arms  ;  he  pressed  her  to 
his  heart,  and  in  a  voice  of  deep  emotion  and  interest,  in- 
quired if  he  had  done  any  thing  to  offend  her. 

"  Maimez-vaus  ?"  she  murmured,  as  her  tears  fell  in 
quick  succession  upon  his  burning  cheek. 

"  Si  je  vous  aime !  pouvez-vous  en  douter  done  9"  he 
exIaiiBed,  pressing  her  still  closer  to  hit  breast. 


"■-I 


.  / 


v 


'■'.' 


tCKKtt. 


181' 


'  The  loud  beating  of  their  hearts  betrayed  the  agitated 
state  of  their  feelings.  The  head  of  the  young  girl  re- 
clined on  the  shoulder  of  her  lover.  Her  now  lustreless 
eyes  were  half  closed  beneath  their  long  fringes,  while 
her  lips  avoided  not  the  searching  lips  of  Delmaine. 
Suddenly  the  coach  stopped,  and  the  illusion  was  for 
the  moment  dispelled. 

Handing  her  from  the^o^r^,  Clifford  prepared  to  fol- 
low into  her  apartments,  but  an  exclamation  of  surprise 
and  reproach  arrested  him. 

"  Surely,  Mr.  Delmaine,  you  would  not  think  of  en- 
tering at  this  unseasonable  hour  f"    .).•"'•  ''» 

"  And  why  not  ?"  he  replied,  in  a  tone  of  deep  disap- 
pointment, as  he  relinquished  the  hand  which  trembled 
within  his  own. 

"  iJA,  mon  Dieu  !  rejlechissez  un  instant,  ^iie  dira- 
t-on  dans  V  hotel ! — ce  serait  une  scandale  abominable  ? 

Clifford  was  confounded ;  for  after  what  had  passed, 
he  anticipated  neither  objection  nor  difficulty. 

"  Comme  vous  voulezT^  he  observed,  after  a  pause, 
and  with  a  bitterness  that  clearly  manifested  his  pique 
and  mortification. 

"  Q^ue  vous  etes  injuste,^^  she  mournfully  exclaimed ; 
"  oh,  si  vous  m^aimez  encore,  ne  me  quittez  pas  en  colere 
— quand,  quand  vous  reverrai-je  ?" 

Again  he  grasped  her  extended  hand.  "  Demain  vers 
les  troisheures,^''  he  replied,  and  throwing  himself  once 
more  into  Xhefia^yre,  soon  regained  his  hotel  in  the  Rue 
lie  Richelieu. 

It  was  long,  however,  before  he  obtained  repose.  His 
mind  was  a  complete  chaos  of  contending  passions ;  his 
imagiratic-n  a  mass  of  confused  and  bewildering  ideas. 
He  reviewed  the  several  occurrences  of  the  last  twenty- 
four  hours,  and  felt  confounded  at  their  varying  and 
contradictory  character.  Had  any  one  even  hinted  to 
him  the  day  before,  that  he  could  possibly  have  waived 
an  engagement  with  the  Stanleys  for  one  with  Astelli, 
or  that  he  could  have  quarrelled  with  his  best  friend  from 
mere  dread  of  incurring  the  ridicule  of  a  comparative 

VOL.  I.  16 


r* 


182 


]gCART£« 


Stranger,  he  would  have  treated  the  insinuation  witli 
scorn :  yet  such  circumstances  had  actually  taken  place, 
and  he  felt  deeply  humiliated  and  vexed  at  tlie  reflec- 
tion. On  this  dark  view  of  the  picture,  his  th'>f)  xhts 
were  not,  however,  long  permitted  to  linger*  t  re- 
curred to  Adeline-'— to  the  fascination  of  h(  manner, 
and  her  evident  attachment  for  him.  Neither  the  sin- 
gularity, nor  the  inconsistency  of  that  attachment  after 
so  sliort  an  acquaintance,  or,  more  strictly  speaking, 
no  acquaintance  at  all,  seemed  to  excite  either  doubt  or 
surprise  in  his  mind,  for  she  appeared  to  him  as  a  child 
of  nature,  artless,  affectionate,  and  without  reserve. 

We  have  already  remarked  that  there  was  one  decided 
weakness  in  the  character  of  Delmaine.  The  reader 
will  be  at  no  loss  to  understand  that  that  weakness 
originated  in  an  extreme  susceptibility  to  female  beauty, 
?  id  a  too  great  aptitude  to  render  homage  to  every  wo- 
m&n  who  showed  herself  not  insensible  to  his  physical 
and  moral  attractions.  That  this  feeling  may  have  had 
its  origin  as  much  in  vanity  as  m  generous  affection,  we 
pretend  not  to  deny ;  and  tbcvugh  it  may  shock  the 
lovers  of  perfection  in  U\e  human  character  to  discover 
so  glaring  a  blemish  hi  the  hero  of  a  novel,  we  can  only 
remind  them  that  we  have  pledged  ourselves  simply  to 
describe  man  as  he  is,  and  not  as  he  should  be.  Con- 
stituted as  Clifford  was,  it  is  not  surprising  that  the  ap- 
parent Gevotedness  of  the  young  Frenchwoman  should 
have  produced  a  strong  and  absorbing  impression  on  his 
mind.  His  were  not  feelings  to  be  nourished  and 
strengthened  by  opposition  or  coldness.  The  very  pride 
of  his  nature  would  have  enabled  him  to  crufh  a  passion 
which  was  not  met  with  equal  warmth,  while,  on  the 
other  hand,  every  manifestation  of  increasing  attach- 
ment at  once  commanded  and  obtained  the  full  and  uur 
qualified  homage  of  his  soul.  Had  Adeline,  during 
the  several  singular  scenes  of  that  evening,  evinced  dis- 
appointment by  any  expi-ession  of  ill-humour,  or  suflered 
the  workings  of  pique  to  betray  her  into  invective,  the 
illusion  would  have  been  instantly  dispelled  ;  but  against 


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183 


the  eloquent  appeal  of  her  full  blue  eye,  and  the  trem- 
l/ling  intonations  of  her  melodious  voice,  there  was  no 
resistance,  and  he  had  felt  his  heart  subdued  without 
making  an  effort  to  check  their  influence.  Caprice  and 
petulance  would  only  have  had  a  tendency  to  disgust 
and  to  undeceive;  but  gentleness  and  uncomplaining  suf- 
fering, were  weapons  which,  when  employed  on  such  a 
character  as  Clifford,  were  in  themselves  sufficient  to 
command  every  affection  of  tlie  heart. 

It  was  in  this  light,  dangerous  to  his  own  peace,  that 
he  now  thought  of  the  fascinating  girl :  and  when  at 
length  he  did  contrive  to  snatch  a  few  hours  repose,, he 
fancied  himself  more  in  love  with  her  than  ever.        ir 


t:f-<.:  : 


CHAPTER  XI. 


When  Delmaine  awoke  on  the  following  morning, 
his  love  for  Adeline  seemed  to  have  passed  away  like 
the  imperfect  impression  of  a  dream,  aild  regret  and 
self-condemnation  were  the  almost  exclusive  feelings  by 
which  he  was  assailed.  He  thought  of  Dormer,  of  his 
singular  and  unexpected  appearance  at  Astelli's,  and  of 
his  still  more  singular  and  unexpected  disappearance. 
Anxious,  yet  half  dreading  to  learn  if  there  was  any 
opening  to  a  reconciliation,  he  rang  for  his  servant, 
with  a  view  to  ascertain  whether  Dormer  had  called 
during  his  absence. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  old  man  appeared,  but  Clifford 
had  not  coi^rage  to  put  the  question  he  intended  in  a 
direct  manner. 
,  =^««  Walters,  have  you  any  letters  for  me  ?" 

"  No,  sir,"  said  Walters,  who,  having  served  nearly 
half  his  life  in  the  army,  had  too  high  a  sense  of  re- 


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spect  and  duty,  to  indulge  in  more  words  than  were  ab- 
solutely necessary. 

"  Have  you  any  message  for  me  ?" 

«  No,  sir." 

"  Has  no  one  called  during  my  absence — recollect 
yourself?"  .  o''  .wv.  '>-l  i  -  >-'^^<^..^' 

"  Nobpdy,  sir,"  returned  Walters,  somewhat  startled 
at  the  emphatic  manner  of  his  young  master. 

"  Has  Mr.  Dormer  not  been  here  ?"  at  length  ex- 
claimed our  hero,  in  a  tone  of  mingled  pique  and  passion. 
r  (  "  No  sir,  certainly  not,"  said  the  old  man,  mvolun- 
tarily  retreating  back  a  pace,  and  evidently  much  sur- 
prised at  this  cross-questioning. 

"  What  is  the  hour  ?"  demanded  Clifford,  in  a  milder 
tone. 

Walters  approached  the  secretaire^  and  looked  at  his 
master's  watch.     "  Past  one,  sir." 

"  Past  one  !"  thundered  Delmaine,  throwing  ofi'  the 
clothes  and  springing  out  of  bed.  "  Quick,  order  the 
cab,  and  bring  me  a  cup  of  coffee."     .   ^     A     . .  ..A  . 

"  Is  my  master  mad  f"  mused  Walters,  as  he  deiicend- 
ed  to  execute  the  order. 

But  his  master  was  not  mad,  though  very  much  an- 
noyed, both  with  Dormer  and  himself.  "  Strange 
friendship  indeed  !"  he  muttered,  as  he  proceeded  with 
his  toilet.  "  How  can  one  man  be  thus  ridiculously 
offended  with  another,  for  so  trifling  a  dereliction — ^he 
has  done  the  same  thing  a  hundred  times,  and  can  have 
no  right  to  arraign  my  conduct ;  but  no,  I  do  him 
wrong ;  he  can  only  have  my  interest  at  heart,  and  my 
unworthy  petulance  has  offended  him.  His  very  ap- 
pearance in  the  salon  last  night,  must  be  attributed  to 
the  friendly  feelings  he  entertained  in  my  favour  ;  but 
if  so,  why  did  he  not  speak  f  why  did  he  leave  the 
place  so  abruptly  ? — ^no,  I  cannot  forgive  him  for  this  : 
it  savours  too  much  of  espionage.''*  And  thus  he  went 
on,  alternately  accusing  and  justifying  Dormer,  without 
coming  to  any  positive  conclusion  on  the  subject,  until 
he  had  finished  dressing  and  swallowed  his  coffee.    -  . 


■'i^T%'M7^F^_"iir; 


fCART^. 


185 


The  same  suite  of  apartments  being  appropriated  to 
Sir  Edward  and  his  friends,  in  visiting  his  uncle,  Clifford 
of  course  was  certain  of  meeting  the  Stanleys ;  and 
thither  he  now  directed  his  course,  though  with  a  heart 
not  quite  at  ease,  and  an  imagination  impressed  with  the 
idea  that  his  reception  would  be  less  than  usually  friendly, 
for  his  own  feelings  told  him  that  he  had  done  wrong, 
and  he  could  not  but  admit  that  his  apology  of  the  pre- 
ceding day  might  be  deemed  insufficient.  Yet,  however 
ready  to  acknowledge,  and  willing  to  atone  for  his  er- 
rors, he  could  not  endure  that  another  should  make  him 
sensible  of  them.  He,  therefor3,  prepared  to  arm  himself 
with  all  the  pride  of  his  nature,  in  the  event  of  any 
remarkable  coolness  being  manifested,  and  moreover 
resolved  so  to  regulate  his  manner  by  circumstances, 
as  to  leave  it  doubtful  whether  his  visit  was  intended  for 
Sir  Edward  alone,  or  for  the  party  collectively. 

It  is  not  therefore  surprising,  that  under  these  impreS" 
sions,  and  with  these  feelings,  he  should  unconsciously 
have  worked  himself  into  that  very  stiffness  of  manner 
which  was  so  likely  to  call  for  a  corresponding  conduct 
on  the  part  of  his  friends. 

Arrived  at  the  Hotel  Mirabeau,  he  fancied  he  was 
received  precisely  with  that  sort  of  formality,  into  the 
anticipation  of  which  he  had  successfully  tortured  himself, 
and  he  saluted  each  individual  of  the  party  with  a  state- 
iiness  and  distance  which  passed  not  unobserved  ;  but 
what  particularly  mortified  and  contributed  to  coui^rm 
him  in  this  belief,  was  the  reserved  manner  of  Dormer, 
who,  standing  in  the  recess  of  a  window  conversing  with 
Colonel  Stanley,  had  scarcely  noticed  his  slight  bow  of 
recognition. 

A  game  of  chess,  which  his  entrance  had  for  a  mo- 
ment interrupted,  was  now  resumed,  between  Helen  and 
his  uncle,  and  he .  drew  a  seat  carelessly  towards  the 
labie.    ■■■■■-  ".■'''        ^'     •'":'■;■    ''  -..  ' . 

"  I  hope.  Miss  Stanley,"  he  at  length  ventured  to 
observe,  "  that  the  French  opera  met  your  expectation 
last  evening?" 

■     16* 


1 1 


-'-/ 


186 


£CART^. 


Colouring  deeply,  Helen  for  a  moment  turned  her 
eyes  upon  him,  with  an  expression  which  he  found  no 
difficulty  in  translating — "  Surely  you  are  the  last  per- 
son in  die  world  who  should  make  any  allusion  to  the 
events  of  last  evening."  Recovering  her  self-posses- 
sion, however,  she  replied,  in  a  tone  of  indifference, 
while  her  arm  was  extended  to  take  a  bishop  which  her 
adversary  had  left  exposed,  and  on  which  depended  in 
a  great  measure,  the  success  of  the  game,  "  Perfectly  so, 
Mr.  Delmaine,  I  never  was  more  amused  in  my  life — 
Sir  Edward,  the  game  is  mine,  you  have  but  one  move 
left  before  I  give  you  check-mate." 

If  any  one  thing  could  ruffle  the  usually  good  temper 
of  the  baronet,  it  was,  to  be  found  wanting  in  proper 
foresight  in  covering  his  pieces ;  and  as  he  had  ever 
been  considered  an  excellent  chess  player,  it  was  a 
source  of  no  trifling  mortification  to  him  to  be  beaten  by 
a  woman;  more  especially  one  whom  he  considered  a 
mere  novice.  Sir  Edward  was  an  old  man,  and  not  in 
love ;  and  men  who  are  old  and  not  in  love,  do  not 
much  care  to  be  vanquished  at  chess  by  the  prettiest 
woman  in  Christendom.  As  some  whist  players  have  a 
horror  of  having  their  cards  overlooked  by  a  spectator, 
under  the  impression  that  it  brings  them  ill-luck,  so  the 
good  old  baronet  felt  inclined  to  think  that  the  presence 
of  his  nephew  had,  in  some  measure,  given  rise  to  the 
oversight  which  compromised  the  game  f  and  he  began 
to  vent  his  spleen,  by  alluding  to  his  defalcation  of  the 
preceding  day. 

"  And  pray,  sir,  how  long  is  it  since  you  have  ac- 
quired the  caprice  of  breaking  off  engagements  witli 
your  friends,  and  devoting  yourself  to  strangers?  May 
I  beg  to  know  what  became  of  you  last  night?" 

"My  engagement  of  last  night,  sir,"  said  Delmaine, 
proudly,  "  was  of  a  very  peculiar  nature."  As  he  spoke, 
his  ey€  wandered  towards  the  window,  and  he  remarked 
u  contemptuous  smile  upon  the  lip  of  Dormer.  "  But  I 
had  hoped,"  he  pursued,  in  a  more  hurried  tone,  irri- 
tated at  once  by  this  circumstance,  and  by  the  sarcastic 


l^CARTf. 


187 


tone  of  his  uncle,  "  I  had  hopbd  that  my  apology  would 
have  been  found  sufficiently  explanatory." 
-,  "  Nay,  my  dear  friend,"  coolly  observed  the  colonel, 
"  it  is  hardly  fair  to  subject  Mr.  Delmaine  to  a  cross- 
examination..  We  have  had  his  apolpgy  in  due  form, 
and  the  most  rigid  laws  of  etiquette  cannot  well  exact 


»», 


more. 

>  There  was  deep  sarcasm  in  the  tone  in  which  this  re- 
mark was  uttered,  and  it  did  not  escape  the  attention  of 
Delmaine.  He,  however,  made  no  reply ;  but,  biting 
his  lip,  and  leaning  his  head  upon  his  hand,  continued 
to  look  at  the  chess-board,  where  kings,  queens,  knights, 
bishops,  castles,  and  pawns,  danced  before  his  eyes, 
without  his  being  conscious  of  the  identity  of  either. 
More  vexed,  however,  at  the  silence  and  reserve  of 
Helen  than  at  the  observation  of  her  father,*  he  kept 
chewing  the  cud  of  his  mortification,  and  working  up  his 
feelings  until  they  had  attained  a  high  pitch  of  excite- 
ment. 

"  There  is  no  one  here,"  he  mentally  exclaimed,  in 
bitterness  of  heart,  "  who  cares  for  me ;  and  I  must  seek 
for  happiness  elsewhere." 

His  future  fate  seemed  to  hang  upon  the  moment. 
Had  he  been  received  by  Helen  with  that  openness  and 
frankness  which  had  hitherto  distinguished  their  meet- 
ings, the  jealous  impressions  by  which  he  had  been 
governed  on  his  entrance,  would  have  been  utterly  re- 
moved ;  but  though  prepared,  as  we  have  already  ob- 
served, to  expect  this  mixture  of  reserve  and  formality, 
lie  felt  himself  totally  unequal  to  the  encounter. 

"  Now,  then.  Sir  Edward,"  remarked  his  adversary, 
in  a  tone  of  gayety  which  no  one  but  a  man  determined 
to  think  otherwise,  could  have  failed  to  perceive  was 
assumed,  "  you  are  fairly  caught  in  my  toils — check 
mate!"  v  .  '         -     '  '  - 

"  What  delight  she  seems  to  take  in  winning  a  silly 
game  at  chess,"  thought  Clifford,  and  he  sighed. 

The  baronet  looked  on  every  hand  for  some  chance 
of  escape,  but  the   web  was  too  securely  prepared. 


^ 
»«^-i 


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.=*.>■ 


kf- 


188 


^CART^. 


'<  Humph!"  he  ejaculated^  as  he  was  wont  to  do  when 
any  thing  either  affected  or  perplexed  him.  *'  Check 
mate,  do  you  say  f  Let  me  see — yes ;  true  bill,  my 
dear--4airly  vanquished,  I  admit.  And,  pray,  in  whose 
toils  have  you  been  caught  ?"  he  added,  turning  to  his 
nephew,  "  that  you  sit  there  looking  so  completely  the 
image  of  despair.  Some  pretty  Frenchwoman,  I  sup- 
pose, has  spread  her  meshes  around  your  heart  last 
evening,  and  you  have  not  yet  slept  her  image  off  your 
brain." 

Delmaine  colouied  deeply,  and  he  met  the  gaze  of 
Dormer — then  again  turned  upon  him — with  an  ex- 
pression of  impatience  and  defiance,  as  he  replied,  with 
ill-assumed  carelessness  of  manner,  "  That  his  heart 
was  never  more  free  than  at  that  moment,  and  that  he 
trusted  it' would  long  continue  so." 

Suppressing,  with  difficulty,  the  sigh  which  laboured 
for  release,  Helen  rose  from  the  table,  and  approached 
the  little  group  near  the  window,  where  she  now  com- 
menced an  animated  conversation  with  Dormer ;  so 
animated,  indeed,  that,  to  her  companion,  it  was  evi- 
dently forced  ;  while  Delmaine  only  read  in  it  a  confir- 
mation of  her  utter  indifference  for  him. 

"  I  can  have  no  business  here,"  he  thought ;  "  this 
reserve  is  too  marked — this  conduct  too  pointed.  But 
there  is  one,"  and  he  fired  with  a  sort  of  vengeful  exul- 
tation at  the  idea,  "  who  will  not  receive  me  with  this 
4-hilling  apathy  of  manner." 

It  was  past  the  hour  of  his  engagement  with  Adeline. 
He  took  up  his  hat.  No  one  asked  him  to  prolong  his 
visit,  or  to  dine ;  and  he  felt  this  neglect  more  bitterly, 
for  it  was  a  thing  unusual.  He  shook  his  uncle's  hand 
slightly,  and  simply  bowing  to  the  remainder  of  the 
party,  with  a  determination,  formed  at  the  instant, 
never  to  return  uninvited,  hastened  to  regain  his  cabrio- 

k?t.     -■  ■-'"■■      •■•  •}y^-  ■  ■■■'^    -  .    -^{'   '/ 

A  host  of  contradictory  feelings  rushed  on  his' heart 
during  the  short  drive  to  the  Rue  de  la  Chaussee  d'An- 
tin,  and  never  was  he  more  completely  the  slave  of  his 


„rf.-\.%wr^^".  -.^'^iT\.}i'ir''^:''-i^:; b  ^^ -;;'>,: :■&.. 


.---i*!7.    *-.-.  ._'!i.  ■ 


•r.  >'' 


^CART^. 


189 


impressions  than  at  that  moment.  Entering  the  apart- 
ments of  Adeline  with  a  flushed  cheek  and  beating 
pulse,  he  beheld  her  reclining  on  an  ottoman,  dresiea 
in  a  loose  robe,  which  rather  developed  than  concealed 
the  rich  beauty  of  "her  person.  Her  luxuriant  hair  iiung 
in  wild  profusion  over  her  face  and  neck,  and  some 
powerful  excitement  had  evidently  givqj^  ^  glow  to  her  ; 
cheek,  and  an  expression  of  deep  languor  to  her  eyea,  ' 
One  hand  supported  her  head  on  the  cushion,  in  the 
other  wa£  an  open  volume  of  the  lAaisons  Dan^e- 
reuses. 

"  Is  thi^  studied,  or  natural  ?  Is  it  accidental,  or  is 
it  for  effect  ?"  was  the  first  thought  of  our  hero ;  but 
the  artless  and  affectionate  manner  in  which  she  started 
from  her  position  to  receive  him,  dispelled  every  doubt* 

"  Oh,  I  thought  you  would  never  come !"  she  ex- 
claimed, every  feature  of  her  countenance  expressing 
the  gratification  she  experienced.  "  If  you  but  knew,'* 
she  pursued,  "  how  tedious  the  moments  have  appeared 
since  the  hour  you  named  !" 

They  sat  upon  the  ottoman.  The  soul  of  I)elmaine 
was  all  excitement  and  rapture ;  that  of  Adeline,  ten- 
derness, abandonment,  and  love.  Gradually  they  ap- 
proached each  other.  The  arm  of  her  lover  was 
thrown  around  the  waist  of  the  young  girl,  and  his  burn- 
ing lips  were  pressed  to  hers.  He  forgot  the  world. 
Miss  Stanley,  and  himself.  Glowing,  yielding,  trem- 
bling, Adeline  lingered  in  his  warm  embrace,  and  when 
they  awoke  from  the  intoxicating  illusion,  they  felt  as  if 
no  power,  no  circumstance  on  earth,  could  divide  them* 

It  was  late  before  our  hero  thought  of  leaving  the 
Rue  de  la  Chaussee  d'Antin,  and  as  he  was  about  to 
depart,  recollecting  that  he  had  no  dinner  engagement^ 
he  proposed  that  Adeline  should  accompany  him  to  a 
restaurateur's,  and  thence  to  the  Opera  Comique,  where 
Ponchard  was  fascinating  every  ear  with  his  sweeteit 
notes  in  La  Dame  Blanche^  a  piece  just  brought  outf 
and  already  acquiring  very  great  popularity. 

To  this  she  readily  assented,  and  commeqced  her 


^,JL;,i,^.i, 


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toilet,  while  he  repaired  to  his  hotel,  to  make  some  little 
alteration  in  his  own  dress. 

On  his  return  he  found  her  ready,  and  they  proceeded 
to  Beauvillier's,  in  the  Rue  de  Richelieu.  Delmaine  ask- 
ed for  a  private  room  ;  there  was  norfe,  he  was  informed, 
unoccupied.  He  was  about  to  depart,  when  Beauvillier 
himself,  who  had  just  descended  the  staircase  leading  to 
the  cabinets,  approached,  to  say  that  a  party,  who  had 
dined  early,  were  preparing  to  leave  their  room,  which 
in  the  course  of  a  minute  or  two  would  be  at  his  disposal. 
While  Delmaine  stood  for  a  moment  hesitating  whether 
he  should  wait  or  repair  to  Very's,  the  party  alluded  to 
began  to  descend  the  stairs.  He  raised  his  eyes  instinc- 
tively, and  almost  gasped  for  breath  as  he  beheld  the 
Colonel,  Miss  Stanley,  and  Dormer.  He  was  at  the 
further  extremity  of  the  saloon,  and  on  a  parallel  line 
with  the  sloping  direction  of  the  stairs.  Unless  they . 
chanced  to  turn  round,  there  was  every  probability  of 
fiis  eicMping  unobserved.  Just,  however,  as  they  had 
reached  the  bottom,  a  burst  of  laughter  from  a  par^  of 
young  Englishmen,  who  were  swallowing  their  cham- 
pagne at  the  table  near  which  he  stood,  attracted  the 
attention  of  Helen.  A  flush  was  on  her  cheek  at  the 
moment,  but  in  the  next  instant  she  became  pale  as  death, 
and  evidently  moved  with  difficulty.  Dormer  also  had 
turned  his  head  in  the  same  direction,  and  seemed  petri- 
fied with  astonishment  and  indignation.  His  eyes  shot 
an  angry  and  contemptuous  glance  as  he  passed,  but  to 
this,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  our  hero  replied  not. — 
Heielt  the  awkwardness — the  doubtfulness  of  his  posi- 
tion, and  was  at  once  deeply  humiliated  and  confounded. 
Desirous  of  hiding  his  feelings  from  his  companion,  he 
endeavoured  to  rally,  but  the  attempt  was  vain.  Ade- 
line Dorjeville  had  too  much  penetration  not  to  perceive 
his  emotion  and  to  understand  its  cause.  No  reproach 
escaped  her  lips  ;  but  in  the  tear  which  trembled  in  her 
eye,  and  in  the  sigh,  which  she  struggled  not  to  suppress, 
while  her  arm  lingered  less  heavily  on  his,  he  read 


:.:t  1- 


iCARtt. 


191 


sui&cient  evidence  of  the  pain  he  had  unconsciously  given 
her. 

Despite  of  champagne,  and  all  his  attempts  at  gaiety, 
our  hero  found  himself  unequal  to  a  tete-Ortitemth  his 
companion,  and  willingly  repaired,  at  an  earlier  hour 
than  he  had  originally  intended,  to  the  theatre. 

When  they  entered  their  loget  Ponchard  was  w^bling  .  , 
forth  his  melodious  strains  to  an  audience  who  seemed 
to  hang  upon  his  music  as  upon  sounds  of  celestial  • 
promise,  and  the  dropping  of  a  pin  might  have  been 
heard  in  the  short  and  occasional  pauses  of  his  song. — 
The  noise  produced  by  the  opening  of  the  box-door 
drew  the  attention  of  many  of  the  audience,  and  among 
others,  that  of  a  party  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  house, 
on  whom  the  eyes  of  Delmaine  fell  with  a  stupid  expres- 
sion, while  a  feeling  of  sickness  stole  over  his  heart.  In 
th^X  loge  sat  the  colonel,  his  daughter.  Dormer,  and  De, 
Forsac.  Could  he  have  assumed  coolness  and  self-pos- 
session sufficient  to  admit  of  his  observing  the  several 
expressions  of  countenance  in  that  party,  our  hero  would 
have  traced  in  that  of  the  marquis  an  air  of  deep  and 
unqualified  exultation  and  satisfaction,  which  not  all  his 
native  tact  and  habitual  self-command  could  hide  at  that 
moment.  This,  indeed,  was  unlooked  for  by  De  Forsac, 
and  when  his  eye  met  that  of  Adeline,  it  expressed  a 
variety  of  feelings,  intelligible  only  to  herself. 

It  was  some  time  before  Delmaine  could  summon 
courage  to  look  before  him,  and  when  he  did,  he  beheld 
the  penetrating  eye  of  the  colonel  fastened  on  his  box ;  a 
deep  frown  darkened  his  brow,  and  his  whole  counte- 
nance denoted  the  action  of  sudden  and  powerful  indig- 
nation. A  painful  consciousness  of  shame  compelled 
Clifford  to  withdraw  his  own  gaze,  and  he  turned  to- 
wards the  stage,  though  he  could  not,  in  the  confusion 
of  his  thoughts,  distinguish  a  word  that  was  said.  It  was 
in  vain,  however,  that  he  attempted  to  confir^e  the  direc- 
tion of  his  eyes  to  that  quarter.  They  wandered  me- 
chanically and  insensibly  to  the  party  opposite.  Miss 
Stanley  sat  in  an  angle  of  the  togCt  supporting,  with 


4- 


M 


'./.l:!^  >■>:_.  ;i..v-.  .:M  -I.'  ^L Jm'.^  -:>.\  -■'*«<.  V. 


^-.^'A...vC: 


pMt«w*JiM»aw-«««|w  I      ■■■IJ'W' 


102 


tCAKTi, 


^■if 


her  hand,  a  cheek  of  almost  equal  whiteness,  presenting 

,  a  striking  contrast  to  the  dark  tresses  which  lingered 
upon  her  forehead.  Her  eyes  were  riveted  upon  the 
stage,  but  evidently  with  eflort,  and  to  the  occasional 

•  remarks  addressed  by  those  around  her,  she  replied  with 
seriousness  and  evident  abstraction.  Dormer,  too — the 
teasing,  the  ubiquious  Dormer,  stood  with  his  arms 
folded,  reclining  against  the  side  of  the  box,  and  ob- 
viously attending  more  to  the  movements  of  the  party 
opposite  than  to  the  business  of  the  performance. 

Delmaine  cursed  him  in  his  vexation,  for  he  now  ad- 
mitted the  belief  that  he  had  planned  and  produced  these 
several  and  unpleasant  rencontres.  Unwilling  that  he 
should  triumph  in  his  success,  he  resolved  to  rally ;  and, 
as  much  from  the  contradictory  nature  of  his  feelings,  as 
from  a  desire  to  shake  off  his  embarrassment  of  manner, 
he  entered  into  conversation  with  Adeline.  But  though 
his  lips  uttered  sounds  of  kindness,  there  was  no  accom- 
panying expression  on  his  countenance ;  his  features  were 
stiff,  his  action  unbending,  and  his  whole  demeanour,  in 
short,  indicative  of  reserve.  Adeline  was  not  insensible 
to  the  change,  neither  did  she  appear  to  .be  ignorant  of 
the  cause.  She  saw  that  his  position  was  disagreeable 
to  him,  and  with  a  delicacy  of  feeling  which  was  fully 
understood  and  appreciated,  urged  a  severe  head-ache, 
as  a  plea  for  retiring ;  to  this  Delmaine  gladly  acceded, 
and  as  he  left  the  house,  he  turned  a  last  look  upon  the 
opposite  loge.  Again  the  attention  of  the  whole  party 
was  directed  to  him  and  to  his  companion,  and  in  his 
cursory  glance,  he  fancied  that  the  eyes  of  Helen  beam- 

">  ed  with  a  mingled  expression  of  melancholy,  pain,  re- 
gret, and  despondency ;  but  this  impression  he  sought  to 
dispel,  for  he  had  already  worked  himself  into  the  belief 
that  he  was  hated ;  and,  strange  as  it  may  appear,  he 
rather  wished  to  persuadethimself  of  the  fact  than  to  re- 

,  ject  the  supposition. 

"  Do  you  know  who  that  lady  is  with  our  friend  ?" 
said  De  Forsac,  half  aside  to  Dormer,  yet  furtively 
watching  the  countenance  of  Helen  as  he  spoke. 


ECARTE. 


lea 


"  Sir !"  said  Dormer,  staring  him  full  in  the  face,  and 
with  an  expression  that  could  not  be  miiunderitood. 

The  marquis  felt  the  blood  mount  into  hit  cheek.  lie 
repeated  his  question. 

<'  I  should  presume,"  returned  Dormer,  with  marked 
emphasis  in  his  voice  and  manner,  *'  that  that  lady  can 
be  no  stranger  to  the  Marquis  de  Forsac." 

**  Really,  Mr.  Dormer  is  pleased  to  give  mo  credit 
for  a  much  better  memory  than  I  actually  poisoii ;  but, 
positively,  I  am  not  so  fortunate  as  to  retain  the  Hiightest 
recollection  of  her  person." 

"  Does  the  Marquis  de  Forsac  then  find  it  prudent 
and  convenient,  at  this  precise  moment,  to  diiclnlm  all 
acquaintance  with  Mademoiselle  Adeline  Dorjevillef" 

"  Oh,  true!  the  young  girl  whom  our  iHend  wai  lo 
fortunate  as  to  rescue  from  almost  certain  death  on  the 
day  of  the  funeral :  I  did  n  ^^  recognise  her.  Bv  the 
bye,"  he  continued,  in  a  voice  which  he  affected  to  lower 
to  a  whisper,  but  still  rendered  sufficiently  diitinbt  for 
Miss  Stanley's  ear;  "her  gratitude  was  so  power Ailly 
excited,  that  she  was  induced  to  solicit  his  attendance  at 
a  party  given  by  Astelli  last  night — they  wore*  insepara- 
ble during  the  evening." 

As  he  finished  this  sentence,  he  again  glanced  at  the 
pale  countenance  of  Helen,  and  rage,  hate,  and  Jea- 
lousy, triumphed  in  his  soul,  as  he  remarked  her  ill- 
suppressed  agitation.  '^i< 

<'  Are  you  ill,  Helen  ?"  said  the  colonel,  who,  leated 
at  the  opposite  side  of  the  loge^  had  heard  nothing  of 
the  preceding  conversation. 

"  The  heat  of  the  theatre  is  really  insupportable ; 
and,  I  think,  that  if  you  do  not  particularly  wiih  to 
remain,  I  should  prefer  retiring,"  she  languidly  replied. 

"  By  all  means,  my  love,"  rejoined  the  colonel, 
rising.  De  Forsac  was  about  to  ofier  hii  arm,  when 
Dormer  anticipated  the  movement. 

The  marquis  bit  his  lip  with  vexation,  for  he  wiihed 
CO  give  the  finishing  stroke  to  his  insinuationi,  by  ad- 

VOL.  I.  17 


■  ■\ 


104 


l^CART^'. 


'f- 


dressing  her  more  directly  on  the  subject  of  Adeline 
and  Delmaine. 

"  Miss  Stanley — Helen,"  said  Dormer,  as  they  de- 
scended the  staircase  of  the  theatre,  **  believe  not  what 
you  have  heard  of  Delmaine.  This  Marquis  de  Forsac 
I  distrust — his  conversation  with  me  was  evidently 
meant  to  reach  your  ears— but  Clifford  is  not,  cannot 
be,  the  being  he  has  been  repi^esented." 

To  the  hurried  observations  of  her  friend,  Helen 
replied  by  a  look  so  full  of  thankfuhiess,  that  Dormer 
could  not  avoid,  at  once,  cursing  and  deploring  the  in- 
fatuation of  our  hero,  who  could  for  a  moment  relin- 
quish the  society  of  such  a  woman,  for  one  whom  he 
conceived  to  be  utterly  degraded  and  depraved. 

"  I  shall  make  it  a  point  to  see  him  before  we  meet 
again,"  he  pursued.  "  He  will  not  refuse  an  explana- 
tion, I  am  sure ;  and  then  we  shall  be  enabled  to  Judge 
how  far  he  may  prove  worthy  of  your  future  considera- 
tion." 

Again  Helen  thanked  him  with  a  look,  and  an  affec- 
tionate pressure  of  the  arm,  and  they  soon  found  them- 
selves in  tlie  Passage  Feydeau^  near  which  their  equi- 
page was  in  waiting. 

"  Will  you  accompany  us,  marquis  ?"  said  the  colo- 
nel, as  he  followed  the  languid  form  of  his  daughter 
into  the  carriage. 

But  De  Forsac  saw  that  no  advantage  was  to  be  ob- 
tained— ^no  impression  to  be  made,  in  the  then  state  of 
mind  of  Helen.  He  had,  moreover,  fixed  his  libertine 
gaze  on  a  beautiful  woman  in  the  theatre,  who  sat  in  a 
loge  adjoining  that  which  his  party  had  occupied.  With 
this  female  he  had  formed  an  intimacy  many  years  be- 
fore, while  she  was  yet  a  young  and  inexperienced  ffirl ; 
but,  with  that  inconstancy  of  character  for  which  hv. 
was  remarkable,  he  had  soon  abandoned  her  for  some 
new  object.  Ten  years  had  elapsed  since  their  separa- 
tion, and  he  now  beheld  the  child  transformed  into  th(> 
woman,  whose  maturer  charms,  provoking  admiration, 
led  bis  restless  imagination  into  anticipations  of  a  vo- 


l^CARTE. 


195 


liipluouincM  peculiar,  he  well  knew,  to  those  only 
whom  yeare  and  experience  have  ripened  into  meridian 
fiilneM.  De  li'orsac  was  true  to  his  principles;  for, 
though  he  had  contrived  to  render  himself  a  very  great 
fnvnunte  with  Colonel  Stanley,  and,  notwithstanding 
lie  had  devoted  more  time  to  his  society  than  was  con- 
Niitent  with  his  habits  of  dissipation,  he  did  not  sufTcr 
any  outward  demonstrations  of  moral  conduct  to  inter- 
fere with  his  private  pleasures  and  secret  indulgences. 
Excusing  himself,  therefore,  he  returned  to  the  theatre, 
where  he  found  no  great  difficulty  in  renewing  his  ac- 
quaintance with  the  object  of  his  present  wishes. 

'  Satisfied  that  Helen  would  much  rather  be  left  to  her 
nwn  thoughts.  Dormer  declined  the  invitation  likewise. 
Before  they  separated,  however,  he  managed  to  reas- 
sure her,  by  repeating,  in  a  whisper,  that  he  would  see 
Dehnaine  m  the  morning.  Then,  pressing  her  hand 
afTectionately,  he  repaired  to  his  hotel.  i 

He  had,  however,  scarcely  reached  his  apartments, 
when  he  discovered  that  he  had  lost  a  small  ivory  tablet, 
containing  memoumnda  which  were  of  consequence  to 
him*  Presuming  that  he  had  dropped  it  in  the  theatre, 
he  returned  immediately  in  search  of  it.  His  first  im- 
prcaiion  was  to  send  in  one  of  the  women  usually  em- 
ployed as  box-keepers ;  but  reflecting  on  the  possibility 
of  her  appropriating  it  to  her  own  use,  under  the  idea 
of  lome  intrinsic  value  being  attached  to  it,  he  changed 
hit  purpose,  and  resolved  to  enter  and  look  for  it  him- 
self. The  tablet  lay,  as  he  had  anticipated,  on  the  floor 
near  the  spot  he  had  occupied ;  and,  as  he  stooped  to 
pick  it  up,  the  sound  of  voices  in  the  next  loge^  one  of 
which  he  recognised  for  De  Forsac's,  arrested  his  at- 
tention. A  powerful  and  indefinable  feeling  of  curiosity 
and  interest,  induced  him  to  remain ;  for,  however  re- 
luctant he  might  have  felt,  under  diflerent  circumstances, 
to  pt*  M  sach  a  course,  the  occurrences  of  the  day,  and 
hb  o>,n  peculiar  distrust  of  the  marquis,  he  now  con- 
ceived to  be  a  sufiicient  justification.  Seating  liimself, 
therefore,  so  as  to  be  unobserved  by  the  parties,  he  was 


•,.       V''. 


190 


ECARTE. 


I- 


enabled,  from  the  slightnegg  of  the  partition,  to  hear  thaV 
.  converiation  with  diftinctness,  although  carried  on  in  a 
subdued  tone  of  voice.  , 

"  She  ii  unqueitionably  an  elegant  woman,  both  in 
person  and  in  manner,  and  will  do  honour  to  my 
choice,"  wai  the  first  connected  sentence  he  could  dis- 
tingfuisht  '-.^^yr:^  ti 

*'  But  we  all  know  yon,  marquis,  to  be  a  refined  vo- 
luptuary. How  then  can  a  cold  and  insipid  English- 
woman inspire  you  with  any  thing  like  ardour  in  such  a 
pursuit  as  that  of  matrimony?"  \^ 

"  You  are  wrong,"  rejoined  De  Forsac.  "  English- 
women are  neither  so  cold  nor  so  insipid  as  you  may 
imagine.     It  is  true,  they  have  less  of  the  vivacity  of 

Sassion,  but  their  feelings  are  deep,  intense,  and  lasting, 
loreover,  they  live  upon  the  memory  of  love,  when  love 
itself,  and  the  intoxication  of  the  senses,  have  passed 
away." 

*'  Really,  you  seem  to  have  had  some  experience  in 
Englishwomen  since  we  last  met,"  said  the  female,  in  a 
tone  of  pique;  " hut  dpropoSf  what  x«nders  this  beautc 
,  Anglaite  luch  a  paragon  of  perfection  in  your  eyes  ?" 

"  In  the  first  instance,  she  has  fortune,"  emphatically 
observed  De  Forsac. 

*'  Ah !  I  perfectly  understand  how  necessary  a  recom- 
mendation that  is  with  you — ^but  proceed." 

**  In  the  second  place,  she  is  a  woman  of  birth  and 
accomplishment." 
-  "  And  in  the  third  ?"  -^   v  ,^t'    ;?:5: 

"  Lastly  and  chiefly,"  said  De  Forsac,  "  she  has  the 
most  desirable  person  I  ever  beheld." 

*'  Ah,  this  is  rather  more  in  character,  my  dear  mar- 
quis," rejoined  the  female.  "Yet  even  though  she  really 
should  possess  all  these  qualifications  to  the  degree  you 
represent,  her  case  is  hopeless."  .  *v«  ^ 

"And  why  hopeless?" 

"  Because  1  pitv  the  woman  who  should  ever  become 
attached  to  any  thmg  half  so  inconstant  as  yourself." 

"  What  ii\)uitice  you  do  me,  Delphine,"  said  the  mar- 


£CART^. 


197 


quis,  id  one  of  those  seductive  tones,  which  he  so  well 
knew  how  to  assume  ;  "  so  far  from  entertaining  a  feel- 
ing of  inconstancy  towards  you,  I  swear  by  Heaven, 
that  I  never  loved  you  better  than  at  this  moment." 

"  Oh  !  that  I  can  easily  believe,"  rejoined  his  com- 
panion. "  It  is  now  ten  years  since  we  met,  and  people 
tell  me  that  I  am  somewhat  improvedisince  our  liaison. 
Besides,  so  long  an  absence  makes  a  woman  a  new  ob- 
ject of  desire.  Moreover,  you  know  the  proverb,  '  On 
revient  taujours  a  ses  premiers  ainours.^  " 

"  And  never  was  man  so  desirous  of  fulfilling  the  pro- 
verb to  the  very  letter,"  said  De  Forsac,  with  the  deep 
intonation  of  passion. 

"  Est-ce  hien  mat  ?"  seriously  rejoined  the  female.— 
"But tell  me  all  about  this  Englishwoqian,"  she  pur- 
sued, in  a  livelier  tone.  "  Are  you  perfectly  sure  of  her 
— have  you  no  rival  to  dread,  no  obstacle  to  encounter?" 

*'  Why,"  said  De  Forsac,  "  I  have  a  rival,  and  that 
is  the  most  amusing  part  of  the  affair ;  mais  ecoutez. 
You  must  know,  that  on  being  introduced  to  this  su- 
perb creature,  I  found  a  young  Englishman  dangling 
at  iier  side,  who,  having  accidentally  made  himself  no- 
torious by  an  affair  of  honour,  had  contrived  to  turn 
the  heads  of  one  or  two  sillj^  women  in  consequence.  It 
was  easy  to  discover  that  he  was  on  better  terms  with 
my  belle  Anglaise,  than  I  exactly  found  convenient  for 
my  plans,  and  I  at  once  resolved,  if  possible,  to  detach 
him  from  her.  I  am  a  tolerable  observer  of  the  human 
character,  and  have  a  sort  of  tact  for  discovering  weak- 
nesses. You  know,  moreover,  that  when  it  suits  my 
interest,  I  can  make  myself  agreeable  as  well  to  men  as 
to  women.  The  Englishman's  foible  I  soon  found  to 
be  a  fondness  for  admiration,  and  a  susceptibili^  of 
passion,  which  were  likely  to  be  turned  to  account. 
Bref,  I  contrived  to  win  his  friendship,  and  the  first  use 
I  made  of  this  advantage,  was  to  introduce  him  last 
night  at  Astelli's,  where  he  met  with  Adeline  Dorje- 
ville,  who,  as  you  may  easily  imagine,  has  been  properly 
ianructed.  The  silly  girl  had  some  scruples  of  con^ 
.    ,  17* 


198 


^CARTlS. 


■'*«■*** 
x    ^ 


science,  but,  fortunately,  her  own  passions  are  embarked 
in  my  interests.  Tfais  young  fellow  was  romantic 
enough  to  jump  from  an  entresol,  at  the  risk  of  break- 
ing his  neck,  in  order  to  save  her  from  being  trodden  to 
death  by  some  great  beast  of  a  horse,  and,  since  that 
period,  she  has  conceived  a  belle  passion  for  him,  which 
his  self-love  has  iilduced  him  to  return.  This  circum- 
stance was  rather  fortunate,  for,  such  was  the  obstinacy 
of  the  girl,  that  she  would  not  enter  into  my  plans,  until  I 
had  worked  up  her  passions,  by  pointing  out  the  almost 
certainty  of  his  attaching  himself  to  her.  Since  then 
every  thing  has  been  going  on  well,  and  last  night  I  felt 
that  my  projects  would  be  completely  successful.  -It 
was  reserved  for  this  evening,  however,  to  give  the 
coiep  ^fegroce  to  the  affair." 

"  Et  comment  celaV  inquired  the  female. 

"  Did  you  not  remark  a  young  man  who  came  into 
the  opposite  box  with  Adeline  soon  after  the  performance 
began,  and  who  left  in  lo^s  than  half  an  hour !" 

"  A  tall,  elegant,  dark  young  man,  with  uncommonly 
brilliant  eyes,  yet  with  a  sort  of  gaucfterie  in  his  man- 
ner f"  hastily  rejoined  his  companion. 

"  The  same,"  said  De  Forsac.  "  That,"  he  pur- 
sued, after  a  slight  pause,  ''  is  the  person  in  question." 

"  But  how  can  their  mere  presence  at  the  theatre 
possibly  have  the  effect  of  giving  the  coup  de  grace  to 
your  plans  ?" 

"  You  must  know,"  continued  De  Forsac,  "  that 
the  party  who  sat  in  ihe  adjoining  box  to  you,  were  his 
friends,  and,  among  these,  the  superb  Englishwoman 
herself." 

**  Ah !  how  unfortunate  that  I  did  not  see  her,"  inter- 
rupted the  female  ;  "  but  she  sat  with  her  back  turned 
against  the  side  of  my  loge.  Now  I  understand,"  she 
continued,  "  why  the  poor  fellow  seemed  so  restless, 
and  so  exceedingly  gauclie.  Indeed,  I  wondered,  at 
the  time,  how  his  manner  could  be  so  little  in  accord- 
ance with  his  air  distingid.  Of  course  his  meeting' 
with  Adeline  was  purely  accidental." 


•jfe 


fCARTf. 


199 


'  v((  Accidental !"  sneeringly  observed  De  Forsac,  evi- 
dently piqued  at  the  encomiums  bestowed  on  his  rival's 
person,  "  ycu  ought  to  know  that  I  never  leave  any 
thing  to  accident.  No :  the  whole  affair  was  planned 
by  myself;  La  Dorjeville  brought  him  here  at  my  sug- 
gestion, and——" 

A  sudden  burst  from  the  orchestra  drowned  his 
voice,  and  Dormer  tried  in  vain  to  catch  the  conclu- 
sion of  the  sentence.  At  the  termination  of  the  piece, 
he  listened  again,  but  only  broken  and  indistinct  sen- 
tences were  to  be  heard,  and  these  were  no  longer  in 
reference  to  the  subject  so  recently  discussed.  The 
last  part  of  the  performance  now  commenced,  and  he 
resolved  to  withdraw.  He  had  closed  the  door  of  his 
box,  and  advanced  a  few  yards  along  the  corridor,  when 
he  heard  another  cautiously  opened  behind  him.  Turn- 
ing round,  he  beheld  De  Forsac,  who,  hearing  the  noise 
he  made  in  retiring,  had  glanced  hastily  after  him. 
Dormer  instantly  stopped,  and  folding  his  arms,  seemed 
to  await  the  approach  of  the  marquis  ;  but  the  other 
no  sooner  found  that  he  was  discovered,  than  he  hastily 
re-closed  the  door,  and  Dormer  pursued  his  way  to  his 
hotel. 

Filled  with  indignation  against  the  treacherous  De 
Forsac,  and  anxious  at.  once  to  open  the  eyes  of  his 
friend  to  the  infamy  of  his  conduct,  Dormer  knocked  at 
the  door  of  the  anti-room  leading  to  Delmaine's  apart- 
ments. He  was  told  that  he  was  in  bed.  Leaving  a 
message,  therefore,  with  his  servant,  to  say  that  he  wished 
particularly  to  see  him  in  the  morning,  he  retired  to  his 
own  couch,  where  he  passed  a  great  part  of  the  night, 
In  revolving  the  several  occurrences  which  had  taken 
place  since  his  meeting  with  Delmaine  in  the  Rue  Cas- 
tiglione.  Dormer  really  felt  a  sincere  regard  for  his 
friend,  but,,  like  too  many  men,  he  had  forgotten,  that 
the  errors  for  which  he  so  unrelentingly  condemned 
him,  were  precisely  similar  to  those  into  which  he  him- 
self had  previously  fallen.  Of  this  he  now  appeared  to 
be  sensible :  and  he  resolved  to  meet  Clifford  in  tti9 


■  \ 


"«.:■■,-■. 


'.!   ^. 


.■^'■' 


,u 


200 


iScARTl^. 


morning  with  all  the  abandonment  of  friendship  and 
good  feeling.  He  doubted  not,  that  by  exposing  the 
artifices  of  the  infamous  De  Forsac,  and  the  wbrthless- 
ness  of  a  female  who  had  momentarily  seduced  him  from 
his  friends,  his  better  sense  would  conquer  his  infatua- 
tion, and  induce  him  once  more  to  estimate  the  happi- 
ness he  had  so  wantonly  thrown  from  him. 
>,  Delmaine,  as  Walters  trijly  asserted,  had  retired  io 
his  bed  almost  immediately  after  conducting  Adeline 
home  from  the  theatre :  but,  tossed  about  in  a  state  of 
excitation,  his  mind  was  too  much  distracted  to  admit  of 
repose. .  Never  had  he  felt  more  truly  wretched  than 
during  the  last  few  hours.  From  the  moment  of  his 
quitting  the  hge^  when  he  fancied  he  beheld  a  subdued 
expression  of  interest  in  the  eyes  of  Helen,  he  had  been 
tortured  by  the  stings  of  remorse  and  self-accusation.;  so 
true  it  is,  that  a  consciousness  of  error  makes  us  feel 
with  acuteness  any  mark  of  kindness  from  those  whom 
we  know  we  have  wronged.  He  felt,  moreover,  that  the 
tardiness  of  his  departure  must  have  had  a  powerful 
tendency  to  impress  Miss  Stanley  with  the  belief  that 
his  conduct  had  been  premeditated,  and  this  painful 
reflection  continued  to  haunt  him  up  to  the  moment  of 
his  separation  from  Adeline  Dorjeville.  With  still  more 
bitterness  did  it  occur  to  him  in  the  silence  and  solitude 
of  his  apartment,  and  from  the  fact  itself,  his  mind  gra- 
dually reverted  to  the  cause.  It  seemed  so  extraordinary 
a  circumstance  that  they  should  have  met,  at  the  same 
restaurateur's  and  at  the  same  theatre  on  the  same 
evening,  that  he  could  not  avoid  believing  these  several 
remontres  had  been  planned  ;  and  he  at  once  fixed  upon 
Dormer  as  the  planner.  The  absurdity  of  the  presump- 
tion, in  his  then  state  of  mind,  never  once  occurred  to 
him ;  neither  did  he  for  a  moment  consider  that  it  was 
utterly  impossible  that  Dormer  should  have  had  the 
slightest  knowledge  of  his  movements. 

His  belief  in  this  fact  was  not  at  all  lessened  by  the 
recollection  of  Dormer's  meeting  with  Miss  Stanley  on 
the  morning  of  her  arrival  in  Paris,  and  the  evident 


■J--- 


£CAET^. 


201 


f  "■ 


Interest  he  inrariably  took  in  every  thing  relatiu£'  to  her. 
A  new  light  seemed  to  flash  across  his  mind.  There 
could  be  no  doubt  that  Dormer  was  his  secret  rival,  and 
that  under  the  mask  of  friendship,  he  was  endeavouring 
to  undermine  his  influence.  Alas !  poor  Delmaine,  how 
strictly  correct  were  you  in  the  assumption  of  the  fact ; 
how  wrong  in  that  of  the  identity  of  the  man !  Yet,  oif 
what  want  of  generosity,  of  what  inconsistency,  will  not 
the  human  mind  be  capable,  when  under  the  influence 
of  strong  disappointment  and  misguided  feeling.  No 
sooner  had  he  admitted  these  recollections  and  impres- 
sions, than,  nursing  them  into  conviction,  he  firmly 
resolved  never  to  renew  the  slightest  familiarity  of  inter- 
course with  his  perfidious  friend,  whom  he  could  only 
suspect  without  a  possibility  of  charging  him  with  the 
oflence. 

Thus  assailed  by  blended  feelings  of  anger  against 
Dormer,  and  of  contempt  for  himself,  mingled  with  al- 
most inexplicable  sensations  in  regard  to  Helen,  he 
passed  the  greater  part  of  the  night;  his  distrust  of  the 
former  increasing  with  his  reflections,  until  he  almost 
fancied  him  his  greatest  enemy ;  his  esteem  for  the  lat- 
ter augmenting,  as  he  dwelt  on  the  irretrievable  forfeit 
he  had  made  of  all  claim  to  her  future  favour-— nay,  even 
to  her  future  acquaintance ;  for  he  felt,  that  after  the  oc- 
currences of  the  last  evening,  he  could  never  again  ven- 
ture into  her  presence.  * , 

In  thfe  morning  he'  was  awakened  ^>y  Walters,  who 
came  to  say  that  Mr.  Dormer  was  waiting  to  see  him  in 
the  breakfast-room  on  particular  business. 

"  Mr.  Dormer  waiting  to  see  me  on  particular  busi- 
ness?" be  repeated,  with  an  air  of  astonishment. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Walters  ;  "  he  called  last  night,  but 
you  were  in  bed,  and  I  thought  you  Would  not  wish  to 
be  disturbed  by  the  delivery  of  the  message." 

"  Tell  Mr.  Dormer  that  I  shall  be  with  him  imme- 
diately." 

Walters  left  the  room,  and  Delmaine  hastened  to  com- 
plete his  toilet.    His  bitterness  of  feeling  against  Dor- 


J'    :\ 


■■■\  .•»^ff».—»k^».,  -«.,:,  »„, 


':-%'^ 


^;u: 


^/evr 


yv 


202     ,- 


IBCART^. 


f^ 


t .( 


?' 


mer  was  in  no  way  abated,  and  he  now  determined  to 
treat  him  with  the  utmost  distance.  What  he  possibly 
wanted  with  him,  he  could  not  at  all  divine ;  but  his 
imaginatiov'  soon  supplied  him  with  a  motive.  "  Of 
course  he  is  come,"  he  thought,  "  to  try  what  effect  the 
events  of  last  evening  have  produced  upon  me ;  but 
his  Mentorship,  as  De  Forsac  justly  calls  it,  is  over  at 
last,  thank  Heaven,  and  I  shall  disappoint  him." 

In  a  few  minutes  he  entered  the  breakfast-room.  Dor- 
mer was  reading  the  paper,  but  no  sooner  perceived 
his  friend,  than  he. threw  it' down,  rose,  and  extended 
his  hand. 

"  Will  you  be  obliging  enough  to  resume  your  seat, 
sir  .'*"  said  Delmaine,  somewhat  haughtily,  and  without 
noticing  this  mark  of  reconciliation.  -^^c^  s 

Dormer  coloured  deeply— he  hesitated  a  moment — 
made  an  effort  to  curb  his  feelings,  then  sat  down  in  the 
place  he  had  previously  occupied. 

"  May  I  beg  to  know  to  what  I  am  to  attribute  the 
honour  of  this  visit,  Mr.  Dormer  ?"  *  :4*"^?*t?^ 

;  .  "  Clifford — Delmaine  !"  said  Dormer,  earnestly. 

"  Mr.  Delmaine,  if  you  please,  sir !"  interrupted 
our  hero,  with  quickness. 

Again  Dormer  struggled  with  his  feelings.  "  Del- 
maine, we  were  once  school-fellows,  and  until  lately  have 
been  friends." 

"  But  are  so  no  longer,  Mr.  Dormer.  Will  you  be 
kind  enough  to  favour  me  with  the  particular  business 
which  has  induced  this  visit  ?"  :   "  •     r  't^' 

*•  My  business  is  that  of  interest  in  your  happiness — 
anxiety  in  your  welfare,  Clif — Mr.  Delmaine." 

"  Upon  my  word,  Mr.  Dormerjyou  are  extremely 
kind ;  but  I  do  not  wish  that  you  should  distress  your- 
self about  me,  or* my  happiness."    . '  .,^,<:4"t{-^^^  :. 

"  This  is  too  much,"  said  Dormer,  rising  impatiently^ 
Then,  after  a  pause,  ''  I  wish  to  warn  you  against  the 
Marquis  de  Forsac,  the  serpent  whom  you  have  taken 
to  your  bosom — a  man  without  principle."     ^Mi^'i^- 
'    "  Sir,  I  beg  that  you  will  discontinue  such  language 


m 


\  > 


tfifiii. 


:a 


l^CARTjg. 


203 


in  my  presence— the  Marquis  de  Forsac  is  my  iViend> 
and—" 

**  Ay,"  interrupted  Dormer,  with  bitterness,  "  a  new 
friend,  who  will  sting  you  to  the  ^spul,  even  before  you 
are  aware  of  your  danger." 

"  Better  to  be  stung  by  a  new  friend  than  by  an  old 
one,"  observed  Delmaine,  contemptuously.  *'  But  to 
this  particular  business,  sir.  I  have  an  engagement  this 
morning,  and  you  will  excuse  me,  if  I  ask  you  to  be 
briefl"  •;:■'-•■■  '^ '']-■"  ^':::h   ^:\"-^&:'r--'i>>>- 

"  By  Heavens,  you  are  the  only  man  on  earth  from 
whom  I  would  endure  such  supercilious  treatment !" 
exclaimed  Dormer,  with  vehemence,  striking  his  hand 
upon  the  breakfast  table  with  violence.  "Delmaine,** 
he  pursued,  in  a  calmer  tone,  *' if  you  are  not  infatuated 
beyond  recall  with  that  worthless  creature,  with  whom 
you  so  unblushingly  appeared  at  the  theatre  last  even- 
ing—" 

"Stop,  sir,"  interrupted  Clifford,  angrily,  the  re- 
collection of  last  evening's  occurrences,  and  his  recent 
suspicions  of  Dormer,  flashing  with  additional  force  on 
his  mind.  "  I  desire  you  will  never  allude  to  that  lady, 
in  my  presence,  without  respect ;  know,  sir,  that  she  is 
under  my  protection."  -i    . 

"  Good  Heavens !  have  you  been  so  imprudent— go 
utterly  lost  to  yourself,  and  what  you  owe  to  others  ?" 
exclaimed  Dormer. 

"  Mr.  Dormer,  I  do  not  understand  such  language, 
neither  do  I  admit  the  right  of  any  man  to  arraign  my 
actions." 

"  Have  you  no  regard  for  Miss  Stanley  ?  have  you 
no  respect  for  her  father  ?" 

"  Mr.  Dormer,  I  repeat,  I  do  not  understand  such  li- 
berty of  language,"  replied  Delmaine,  in  a  tone  of  even 
greater  excitement;  "and  I  beg  that  this  interview  may 
be  terminated  at  once." 

"Then  be  it  terminated,"  said  Dormer,  snatching  up 
his  hat,  and  hastening  from  the  apartment.  "  CUrse  his 
obstinacy !"  he  muttered,  bitterly,  as  he  closed  the  door. 


.fi^KA^'; 


■»f.-.fc;«'  -=. 


204 


^CARTl^. 


\\  V' 


^'What  a  fool  I  was  to  give  myself  any  trouble  about 
him." 

And  thus  was  the  rupture  between  these  warm-heart- 
ed, generous,  but  iippetuous  friends,  widened  beyond  a 
possibility  of  future  reconciliation. 


f    ■      ■  ■  ■       ... 

.*     ••'     ,    .••      -■     •-      r> 


,4;.,,...  ,.» 


,J\<.V.    ,1^; 


CHAPTER  XII. 


J) 

;,H 

i.- 

i" 

.■'■) 


#■ 


I. 


No  sooner  had  Dormer  departed,  than,  with  his  usuui 
inconsistency  of  character,  Delmaine  bitterly  regretted 
the  haughtiness  of  manner  he  had  assumed,  and  more 
than  ever  taxed  himself  with  unkindness  and  injustice. 
While  their  interview  lasted,  he  was  supported  as  much 
by  his  pride,  as  by  the  impression  which  had  been  suf- 
fered to  creep  over  his  mind  the  preceding  evening,  and 
his  resolution  had  rather  been  strengthened  than  weak- 
ened, during  the  few  succeeding  hours.  But  when  left 
entirely  to  himself,  and  he  had  found  opportunity  for 
dispassionately  considering  the  matter,  he  felt  that  he 
had  acted  unjustly.  There  was  nothing  in  the  manner 
or  language  of  his  friend,  to  justify  his  hasty  and  unge- 
nerous suspicion  ;  a  suspicion  which  originated  rather  in 
the  pique  he  entertained  at  the  cool  bearing  of  Dormer 
towards  him,  than  in  any  positive  ground  for  accusation. 
This  idea  had  been  strengthened  by  the  several  recent 
annoying  and  singular  coincidences. 

As  he  revolved  the  various  observations  made  by 
Dormer  during  their  short  interview,  he  was  compelled 
to  admit  that  they  all  originated  in  regard  and  interest 
in  his  welfare  ;  and  when  he  recurred  to  the  last  remark 
in  relation  to  Miss  Stanley,  he  hated  himself  for  the  un- 
generous impression  he  had  even  momentarily  nourished. 
Yet,  while  he  acquitted  him  of  any  thing  like  insincerity 
in  his  conduct,  he  saw  nothing  more  in  his  insinuations 


tCAKTt, 


205 


against  De  ^orsac  and  Adeline,  than  the  workings  of 
prejudice,  and  a  desire  to  exercise  that  spirit  of  admo- 
nition, which  he  had  previously  found  so  irksome. 
Tl^e  strong  language  he  made  use  of  in  alluding  to  the 
Marquis  and  Adeline,  he  conceived  to  have  originated 
in  his  undisguised  dislike  for  both  ;  and  it  never  once 
occurred  to  him,  that  there  could  be  any  actual  ground 
for  the  severity  of  his  assertions.    . 

But  however  he  might  differ  from  his  friend  in  these 
particulars,  and  whatever  might  be  his  restlessness  of 
feeling  under  this  sort  of  friendly  mrveillance^  which  the 
latter  seemed  to  feel  himself  authorized  in  exercising 
over  him,  had  Dormer  now  stood  in  his  presence,  Clif- 
ford would  have  confessed  his  error  and  solicited  forgive- 
ness ;  nay,  have  deemed  himself  but  too  happy  if,  by 
such  a  concession,  the  intimacy  and  warmth  of  their 
former  friendship  could  be  restored.  But  every  hope 
of  the  kind  was  gone  ;  he  had  offended  Dormer  without 
a  possibility  of  expiation,  and  the  uncertainty  he  felt  in 
regard  to  the  manner  in  which  an  apology  would  be 
received,  deterred  him  from  writing :  since,  however 
willing  he  might  be  to  make  an  atonement  that  he  felt 
persuaded  would  be  received,  the  idea  of  offering  one 
that  might  be  rejected,  was  far  too  galling  to  his  pride. 

From  the  unpleasantness  of  his  reflections  on  this 
subject,  he  once  more  reverted  to  Sir  Edward  and  the 
Stanleys ;  but  even  here,  the  picture  wore  the  same 
gloomy  and  disheartening  colouring.  It  was  impossible, 
after  the  unfortunate  meeting  of  the  last  evening,  (a 
meeting  which,  now  that,  in  his  cooler  moments,  he  had 
rejected  the  injurious  supposition  that  Dormer  had  been 
instrumental  in  bringing  it  about,  he  seemed  to  think 
had  been  fated,)  that  he  could  present  himself  before  the 
Stanleys  without  an  explanation ;  for  though  he  had 
never  yet  publicly  declared  himself  as  the  lover  of  Helen, 
yet  he  had  certainly  appeared  in  that  light,  both  to  the 
colonel  and  to  Sir  Edward,  who  had  each  remarked  their 
growing  attachment  with  manifest,  though  unavowed, 
satisfaction,    Even  Delmaine  himself  knew  that  his  sitr 

VQL.  I,  18 


^■o. 


^. 


".0        \, 


•         ,-,     -''■ 


S06 


^CART^t 


tentions  had  been  too  little  equivocal  to  escape  obsena* 
fion  ;  and  it  was  this  consciousness,  added  to  the  sense 
of  tfaadne  and  unworthinem  he  experienced  at  the  thought 
of  meeting  her  whom  he  felt  he  had  so  deeply  injured, 
that  now  determined  him  to  discontinue  his  customary 
visits  to  the  Rue  de  la  Paix.  Yet  how  to  accomplish 
this  without  giving  serious  offence  to  his  uncle,  whom  he 
did  not  wish  to  undeceive,  he  knew  not.  As  Sir  Ed- 
ward and  the  Stanleys  occupied  the  same  suite  of  apart- 
ments, it  was  impossible  to  visit  one  party  without 
meeting  the  other.  In  this  dilemma,  he  thought  of  an 
expedient  which  he  fancied  would  answer  his  purpose, 
and  do  away  with  the  necessity  fur  visiting  there  at  all. 
Accordingly,  after  swallowing  his  coffee,  and  musing  a 
few  minutes,  he  wrote  the  following  note  to  the  baronet : 


\:'i^ 


"  MY  DEAR  UNCLE, 

'  '*  A  slight  misunderstanding  has  arisen  between  Dor- 
mer and  myself.  As  he  is  in  the  daily  habit  of  visiting 
the  Stanleys,  I  am  sure  you  will  not  attribute  my  con- 
duct either  to  neglect  or  disrespect  for  yourself,  if  I  deny 
myself  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you,  while  you  continue  to 
occupy  the  apartment  in  the  Hotel  Mirabeau.  I  shall 
send  Walters  every  dniy  to  inquire  after  your  health. 

"  Believe  me,  :  ' '  ?^ 

r-ri' .  >■- '  " My  deal" Uncle, 

"  With  every  affectionate  feeling, 
"  Your  grateful  Nephew, 
**'  ■     ■  "  Clifford  DELMAI^E. 

"  Kotel  des  Primeg,  Bite  de  Richelieu." 


>f 


.■'»•■ 


\.-. 


Having  finished  and  sealed  this  laconic  epistle,  he 
vang  for  Walters,  and  desired  him  to  take  it  to  his  uncle, 
and  wait  for  an  answer.  Too  impatient,  however,  to 
endure  the  suspense  and  doubt  he  felt  in  regard  to  the 
manner  in  which  it  would  be  received,  he  sallied  forth 
on  the  Boulevard,  and  before  he  had  well  determined 
whither  he  should  direct  his  course,  suddenly  found 
himself  at  the  corner  of  the  Rue  de  la  Chaussee  d'Antin. 


I 

It 


-i  .^'* '-'  > 


£cart£. 


90% 


The  image  of  Adeline  preseDted  itivlf,  and  bt  puniMd 
his  course  to  her  apartments. 

She  was  seated  at  the  breakfast  table,  pal«t  M  if  flrom 
suflfering,  and  her  countenance  wore  an  expreuion  of 
deep  melancholy ;  yet  she  endeavoured  to  appear  gay, 
and  when  she  rose  to  receive  him,  it  was  with  a  imiw  of 
joy,  and  an  air  of  undissembled  pleasurCi  Her  whole 
demeanour,  in  short,  was  so  interesting  and  lo  ftOlW, 
that  Delmaine,  as  he  recollected  the  harsh  expreiiioni  of 
Dormer,  could  not  help  feeling  indignant  tt  hit  in^ui- 
tice  and  his  severity, 

*'  How  kind  of  you  to  surprise  me  thus,  after  deierK 
iug  me  so  early  last  evening!"  And  her  look  expreiied 
the  pain  that  early  desertion  had  given  her. 

"  I  was  very — ^very  unwell  indeed  I  Forgive  me, 
dearest  Adeline :  I  was  not  myself." 

"  Well,  I  will  forgive  you ;  but  you  muit  promlie  not 
to  have  any  more  of  these  indispositions,"  she  remarked. 

"  I  do  promise  !"  he  exclaimed,  ai  encircling  ber 
waist  with  his  arm,  he  drew  her  gently  towardi  hini. 
The  movement  dislodged  a  folded  paper,  which  fell  iVom 
lier  bo^om  to  the  ground.  She  stooped  to  pick  it  up, 
but  Clifford  anticipated  her. 

«  What  have  wr  here  ?"  he  exclaimed,  "  t  HUH- 
dauxr 

"  I  should  be  sorry  to  have  many  such,"  replied  Ade- 
line, with  a  sigh,  and  vainly  attempting  to  recover  it. 

Clifford  opened  and  looked  at  it.  It  was  a  bill  fVom 
her  milliner— the  amount  five  hundred  francf.  **  If  it 
paid?"  he  asked. 

Adeline  coloured,  and  held  down  her  head.  **  I  have 
not  the  means  of  pa3ring  it,"  she  whispered. 

•"  Have  you  any  other  bills  unpaid?"  he  demanded. 

"  Oh,  nofit  non,  non"  she  hastily  replied,  burying  her 
face  on  his  shoulder  ;  ''  do  not  ask  me,  1  entreat  you/* 
and  she  wildly  returned  his  embrace. 

Clifford  felt  the  heart  of  llie  young  girl  beat  violent- 
ly. He  drew  forth  his  note  case  unperceived,  and  taking 
out  a  billet  de  banque,  for  a  thousand  francif  enclosed  ity 


fer;^;.''-i;'-:-5S'v>:, 


<-|fe.- 


■.  .    .  ^:A 


208 


1^CART1^\ 


I 


nnobferved,  in  thenUmoire;  and  replacing  it  in  her  ho- 
soih,  whispered,  *'  Pay  this  as  soon  as  I  am  gone,  Ade- 
line ;  I  shall  return  presently." 

Disengaging  himself  from  her  arms,  he  rose  to  depart* 
Adeline  raised  her  head;  her  cheek  was  sufihsed^^ith 
crimson,  and  a  tear  trembled  on  her  long  lashes,  as  witli 
an  air  of  deep  confusion,  she  followed  his  receding 
figure  with  her  eyes. 

On  his  return  to  the  Rue  de  Richelieu,  he  found  an 
answer  to  his  note.  His  hand  trembled  as  he  read  it, 
for  the  appalling  monosyllable,  *'  sir,"  was  the  first  word 
that  met  his  eye.     The  following  were  its  contents  :— 


(I 


"Sir, 

I  desire  you  will  never  call  me  your  dear  uncle 
again,  for  I  am  no  longer  your  dear  uncle.  I  liave 
heard  of  your  proceedings  at  the  theatre  last  night,  and 
am  perfectly  ashamed  of  you.  How  dared  you,  sir,  in- 
sult Colonel  Stanley  and  his  daughter,  by  placing  your- 
self immediately  opposite  to  them,  with  an  artful  French- 
woman? If  you  continue  such  conduct,  sir,  I  shall  dis^ 
inherit  you,  and  then  you  may  have  the  bare  baronetcy 
for  your  pains ;  and  until  you  learn  to  behave  yourself 
better,  I  desire  that  yon  will  never  come  near  me.  As  for ' 
my  health,  sir,  you  need  not  trouble  yourself  about  it. 
I  shall  live  long  enough  yet  to  disappoint  you.  Oh  ! 
Clifford,  Clifibrd,  I  ihad  hoped  better  things  of  you ; 
but  I  see  you  are  fast  following  in  the  steps  of  your 
cousin. 

"  Your  ofiended  Uncle, 

«E.  Delmaine." 


il 


^'  *'  So,"  thought  Clifibrd,  after  he  had  perused  the 
note  for  the  third  time,  gradually  working  himself  into 
a  ferment,  which,  increased  with  each  reading,  "even 
my  uncle  casts  me  ofi*  from  his  afiection,  and  an  iniepa- 
rable  barrier  is  placed  between  me  and  those  who  were 
so  recently  my  firiends.  The  Stanleys  are  indignant  at  n 
conduct  which  they  believe  to  have  been  premeditated, 


'  t 


1  '< ,  . . 


«    -'v\'. 


-  ■  Si; 


%- 


'■t  «*.>■: 


tiCART^. 


806 


Dormer  hai  confirmed  them  in  that  impreiiion,  and  his 
uncle  haf  been  made  a  party  in  their  caufe.  Well,  no 
matter  t  ilnce  I  am  compelled  to  throw  myself  upon 
itrangerg,  be  it  lo— they,  perhaps,  will  prove  less  im- 
Just-— it  is  now  a  matter  of  utter  indJflTerence  to  roe  what 
may  ensue.**    He  rang  for  his  servant.  , 

"  Walters,**  he  said,  "  you  need  not  tit  up  for  me 
to-night— it  is  probable  I  shall  not  return." 

*'  Not  return,  sir  !**  exclaimed  Walters,  with  almost 
alarm  in  his  countenance. 

'*  Not  return,  sir !  No.  What  do  you  mean  by  re- 
'  peating  my  words  f  I  suppose  we  shall  have  you  tum- 
mgMentor  next,**  said  Clifford,  angrily. 

The  old  man  sighed.  His  master  was  not  always 
wont  to  treat  him  thus ;  and  he  thought  him  strangely 
altered  within  the  last  few  days. 

Delmaine  went  to  his  sicretairCt  took  out  several  notes, 
emptied  a  rouleau  of  gold  into  his  purse,  threw  on  his  hat, 
and,  attempting  to  whistle  a  tune,  which  his  inward 
emotion  rendered  false  in  almost  every  note,  once  more 
HCt  off  for  the  Rue  de  la  Chaussee  d* Antin. 

"  Ood  bless  him !"  said  Walters,  as  he  closed  the 
door,  '*  his  temper  is  sadly  soured  since  this  trip  to  Paris, 
and  every  thing  seems  to  be  going  wrong— would  that 
we  were  back  again  in  Grosvenor-street.'* 

Let  us  explain  in  what  manner  Sir  Edward  became 
acquainted  with  the  occurrences,  which  induced  his  pe- 
tulant reply  to  his  nephew's  letter. 

As  the  party  were  seated  at  breakfast,  the  good  old 
baronet  inquired  of  Helen  if  Clifford  had  joined*  their 
party  to  the  theatre.  A  deep  and  painful  blush  suffused 
her  cheek,  as  she  replied  equivocally,  that  she  believed 
iVfr.  Delmaine  had  been  present  at  the  performance.     .:*; 

"  Do  you  only  believe  it  then  f  *  said  Sir  Edward, 
with  an  arch  look,  and  glancing  good-humouredly  at 
the  colonel.. 

But  the  colonel  was  by  no  means  inclined  to  be  face- 
tious on  the  subject.  "  Let  us  not,  my  dear  Delmaine, 
advert  to  this  circumstance,"  he  remarked  seriously; 


■.♦ 


IB* 


.■^jji.-,*    *£  t^Si''--^^^,i^:-^  ''■  ^.•'•^:rse'ii, ' 


SIO 


I^CART^. 


"<  luifice  it  to  lay,  tbftt  your  nephew  was  at  the  theatre, 
but  not  of  our  party." 

"  How  ii  this  f"  thought  Sir  Edward,  and  he  almost 
felt  inclined  to  be  angry  with  his  friend  for  the  apparent 
indifference  with  which  he  spoke  of  him. 

A  servant,  at  this  moment,  entered  with  a  note  to 
;Sir  Edward*  "  Mr.  Delmaine's  servant  waits  for  an 
answer,  sir." 

Ac  the  name  of  Delmaine,  Helen  raised  her  eyes. 
She  wondered  what  the  note  could  contain,  glanced  at 
the  iupersci'iption  as  it  lay  on  the  table  before  Sir  £d- 
ward)  who  was  searching  in  his  pocket  for  his  specta* 
deSf  and  fancied  it  an  age  before  he  opened  it. 

At  length  the  seal  was  broken,  the  baronet  read  it 
attentively  to  himself,  and  then  aloud.  "  What  is  the 
meaning  of  all  this  f"  he  exclaimed,  when  he  had 
finished  it*  **  Stanley,  can  you  give  me  amy  clue ; — do 
you  know  any  thing  of  this  circumstance  f"  \ 

Helen  had  been  evidently  moved  during  the  reading 
of  the  note ;  the  colonel  observed  it,  and  looked  disf 
pleased. 

**  I  rather  think  I  can  explain  the  motive  for  this 
note/'  he  replied,  "  but  in  a  very  different  manner, 
Helen,  when  you  have  finished  your  breakfast,  I  will 
thank  you  to  leave  Sir  Edward  and  myself  together  fov 
R  few  minutes."  j^; 

."  Humph !"  ejaculated  the  baronet,  secretly  vexed, 
and  preparing  himself  for  some  unpleasant  communi> 
cation^  Helen  swallowed  her  coffee,  though  not  with- 
out difficulty,  and,  rising  slowly  from  the  table,  left  the 

'  apartment.  ■/■^'^v  ':'!^it^*Mhi'.'tf.>i^'y 

A  momentary  silence  succeeded  to  her  departure. 
The  baronet  was  afraid  to  allude  to  a  subject,  which, 
from  the  formal  manner  of  his  friend,  he  felt  satisfied 
woi^ld  prove  of  an  unpleasant  nature ;  the  colonel  also 
,  seemed  to  wait  until  he  should  be  questioned,  but  find'- 
ilig  tliat  Sir  Edward  continued  silent,  he  said, 

**  ITqu  ,cat|not  but  be  aware,  Delmaine,  of  t»e  partiiil 


u 


(< 


.  .  <  ■• 


■''■)'. 


;..'i 


I^CART^. 


$11 


Intimacy  whicli  lately  subsisted  between  Helen  and  your 
nephew."  , 

*♦  Aware !"  interrupted  Sir  Edward,  eagerly,  "  per- 
fectly aware ;  nay,  I  have  set  my  whole  heart  upon  the 
match."  r 

"  Gently,"  said  the  colonel,  "  that  match  never  can 
take  place.  I  confess,  myself,  that  I  had  hoped  to  have 
cemented  our  long  friendship  by  a  union  between  two 
beings  so  nearly  connected  with  us." 

"  What  reason  can  there  possibly  be  then,"  again 
impatiently  interrupted  the  baronet,  "  why  it  should 
not  take  place  ? — I  do  not  understand  these  contradic- 
tions." 

. "  I  am  sorry  to  tell  you,"  rejoined  the  colonel, 
"  what  I  know  will  give  you  pain  to  hear.  Since  his 
arrival  in  Paris,  your  nephew  has  formed  some  disre- 
putable connexions,  aqd  especially  an  intimacy  with  an 
artful  Frenchwoman ;  nay,  he  had  the  effrontery  last 
evening  to  taring  her  to  the  theatre,  and  place  her  in  the 
very  box  opposite  to  that  we  occupied." 

Sir, Edward  looked  surprised  and  disappointed. 
But,  my  denr  Stanley,"  he  exclaimed,  after  a  pause, 
you  know  what  young  men  are,  particularly  in  such  a 
place  as  Paris ;  and  as  for  his  appearing  at  the  theatre 
with  this  woman,  it  must  have  been  purely  accidental." 
♦'  Had  this  been  the  case,"  returned  the  colonel,  "  I 
trust  I  am  too  little  of  a  cynic  not  to  have  forgiven 
him ;  but  I  have  reason  to  believe  that  the  insult  was 
pointed,  and  intentional." 

"  Nay,  what  possible  motive  can  you  have,  Stanley, 
lor  entertaining  such  a  belief  ?"  inquired  Sir  Edward.  , 
"  This  very  morning  I  received  an  anonymous  com- 
munication from  a  person  professing  to  be  a  friend  of 
the  family ;  and  although  I  seldom  attach  importance 
to  information  so  conveyed,  I  confess  that  the  purport 
of  the  note  agrees  too  well  with  what  actually  passed 
rmder  my  own  observation,  to  leave  a  doubt  on  my 
mind  in  regard  to  the  veracity  and  disinterestedness  of 
the  writer.     Perhaps,"  he  continued,  drawing  the  let  < 


i( 


a 


212 


]£cART]^t 


■(•1 
^ : 


ter  from  his  pocket,  and  handing  it  to  the  baronet, 
<'  you  would  like  to  read  it  yourselfl" 

Sir  Edward  took  it,  and  read  with  attention  the  fol- 
lowing extraordinary  lines,  which  were  evidently  written 
in  a  disguised  hand :         . 


^i.o.*«  ■•\; 


^yv<*  A  gentleman  whose  acquaintance  with  Colonel 
Stanley's  family,  though  slight,  is  such  as  to  induce 
feelings  of  indignation  at  any  thing  like  insult  offered 
to  its  members,  feels  it  a  duty  to  communicate  a  circum- 
stance  which  occurred  last  evening  at  the  Opera  Co- 
mique.  Accident  having  thrown  the  writer  into  a  re- 
mote part  of  the  theatre,  and  in  the  same  loge  with  a 
French  lady  and  English  gentleman,  he  could  not  avoid 
overhearing  a  conversation  to  the  following  purport. 
The  lady,  finding  her  situation  unpleasant,  proposed  to 
her  companion  that  they  should  xlescend  from  the  third 
tier,  where  they  were,  to  a  vacant  loge  in  the  dress  circle. 
The  gentleman  refused,  alleging  that  the«box  imme- 
diately opposite  was  filled  by  some  very  particular 
friends,  whom  he  feared  to  offend,  by  complying  with 
her  request ;  the  lady  immediately  glanced  in  the  di- 
rection alluded  to,  exclaiming,  *  Ah^  je  la  connais  cette 
damct  c^est  voire  belle  Anglaise^  maintenantfinsiste  que 
V0U8  me  conduisiez  vis-orvis  d'elle.''  She  then  rose  to 
depart.  Again  the  Englishman  remonstrated  and  re- 
fused, when  the  female  (declared  that  unless  he  conduct- 
ed her  to  the  box  in  question,  she  would  instantly  quit 
the  theatre,  and  never  behold  him  more — ^this  threat 
had  the  effect  desired,  and  they  retired  together. 

"  In  the  course  of  a  few  minutes  the  writer  of  this 
communication,  whose  attention  was  attracted  by  the 
observations  of  the  parties,  recognised  Colonel  Stanlej- 
in  the  box  alluded  to.  Soon  afterwards  he  saw  the 
lady  and  gentleman  enter  the  vacant  lege  immediately 
opposite,  where  they  did  not,  however,  long  remain. 
The  writer  is  not  aware  who  the  gentleman  was  ;  but 
if  Colonel  Stanley  remarked  the  entrance  of  any  two 
such  persons,  iu  the  course  of  the  early  part  of  the  per- 


(*'■■. 


'"  ^  n 


■ife^^v. 


^CART^. 


213 


formance,  he  will  be  aware  of  his  idehtity.  Anonymous 
communications  are  at  all  times  to  be  lamented,  but  in  - 
this  particular  instance  a  necessity  for  secrecy  is  felt  by 
the  writer,  who,  it  must  be  evident,  can  be  actuated  by 
no  other  feeling  in  making  the  present  communication, 
than  respect  for  the  family  of  Colonel  Stanley.  The  -1 
female  in  question  had  every  appearance  of  being  a 
person  of  doubtful  character."  » .  f 

Sir  Edward  paused  several  times,  during  the  perusal 
of  this  long  epistle,  on  every  line  of  which  he  lingered 
with  painful  earnestness,  his  usual  ejaculation — humph ! ,  . 
escaping  him,  as  he  came  to  those  passages  which  ac- 
corded so  completely  with  the  communication  of  the  ,'* 
colonel. 

^*  Not  a  doubt  of  it,"  he  at  length  exclaimed.  "  The 
fellow  is  going  headlong  to  the  devil.  I  now  s^  that 
his  story  of  a  misunderstanding  with  Dormer,  is  all  a 
pretence  to  avoid  meeting  those  he  has  so  deeply  of- 
fended, and  this  is  an  additional  proof  of  his  guilt.  Ah, 
Stanley,  I  was  an  old  fool,  to  place  so  much  reliance  ou 
his  steadiness.  I  wish  to  God  I  had  never  come  to  , 
Paris."  &■ 

The  tone  of  mingled  anger  and  despondency  in  which  ^ 
the  good  old  baronet  uttered  these  unconnected  sen- 
tences, deeply  touched  his  friend.     Incapable,  however, 
of  finding  any  excuse  for  the  conduct  of  our  hero,  he 
continued  silent. 

"  I  could  have  forgiven  any  thing  but  this,"  pursued 
Sir  Edward ;  "  but  thus  to  offer  such  an  insult  to  Helen 
— to  the  woman  whom  I  had  hoped  to  have  seen  his 
wife !  Stanley,"  he  pursued,  after  a  pause,  *♦  I  fear 
this  match  can  never  be  accomplished^" 

Never,"  exclaimed  the  colonel,  impressively. 
Enough,"  said  the.  baronet,  irritaited  as  much  by 
the  severity  of  his  friend's  decision,  as  by  the  defection 
of  his  nephew  :  "  I  will  never  see  him  more."     Then 
rising  and  approaching  the  bell,  he  rang  it  violently* 

A  servant  instantly  obeyed  the  summons.    •     >  ^    ^ 


(( 


(( 


I 


*-.  IK 


214 


^CART^. 


'<  Bring  me  my  portfolio,"  said  the  baronet. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  necessary  apparatus  was  placed 
before  him. 

,"Nay,  but  pause  a  moment,"  observed  the  colonel, 
as  his  friend  commenced  his  answer  ;  "  you  surely  do 
not  mean  to  forbid  him  your  presence." 

"  But  I  do  mean  it,"  exclaimed  Sir  Edward  ;  "  so  do 
not  now  talk  to  me  of  pausing,  Stanley.  AH  hopes  of 
a  match,  on  which  I  had  set  my  heart,  are  at  an  end, 
through  his  folly,  and  I  shall  never  forgive  him."     /.'T, 

The  colonel  made  no  further  observation,  but  taking 
up  a  paper,  occupied  himself  with  its  perusal ;  while  Sir 
Edward,  out  of  humour  with  himself,  and  the  whole 
world,  wrote  the  note  we  have  already  read.  ';;  h 

:f  In  a  few  minutes  it  wag  sealed  and  despatched,  when 
the  baronet,  fatigued  with  his  exertion,  and  in  a  heJf 
melancholy,  half  angry  mood,  threw  himself  into  his 
fmetemlf  where,  leaning  his  head  on  his  hand,  he  con- 
tinued  for  some  hours,  plunged  in  a  painful  reverie.  ^; 

Meanwhile  Miss  Stanley,  on  leaving  the  breakfast 
table,  had  retired  to  her  music-room  ;  but  it  was  in  vsun 
that  she  endeavoured  to  apply  herself  to  some  new  and 
difficult  air  of  Rossini's.  Her  thoughts  perpetually 
wandered  to  the  occurrences  of  the  last  evening  ;  and 
ghe  reflected  with  bitterness  and  indignation  on  the  mor- 
tification she  had  experienced.  Notwithstanding  the 
numerous  failings  of  Delmaine,  she  could  not  conceal 
from  herself  that  she  loved  him  ;  and  though  his  singular 
recent  estrangement  from  the  society  of  his  friends,  had 
of  late  caused  her  to  fear  that  he  was  indulging  in  ex- 
cesses, and  yielding  to  the  temptations  which  everywhere 
beset  him,  hers  were  feelings  and  affections  not  to  be 
warped  even  by  the  conviction  of  such  facts  :  for,  rely- 
ing on  his  good  sense  and  discrimination,  she  felt,  .that 
whatever  momentary  aberration  he  might  be  guilty  of, 
he  would  finally  perceive  and  redeem  bis  errors. 

It  may  shock  our  readers  to  learn  that  a  heroine  could 
even  imagine  infidelity  on  the  part  of  her  lover^— and  of 
course  such  a  thing  was  never  known  before— ^yet  so  ii 


m. 


;-,'-«.: 


'M^ 


••,'C 


s  placed 

colonel, 
urely  do 

"  so  do 

hopes  of 

an  end, 
»» 

• 

it  taking 
vhile'Sir 
€  whole 

;d,  when 
in  a  half 
'  into  his  ' 

he  con* 
rerie. 
breakfast 
s  in  vsun 
new  and 
rpetually 
ng ;  and 
the  raor- 
ling  the 

conceal 
singular 
nds,  had 
ig  in  ex- 
ry  where 
lot  to  be 
br,  rely- 
felt,.that 
fuilty  of, 

ne  could 
—and  of 
yet  so  it 


tCAKtt. 


215 


was  in  this  instance;  Miss  Stanley  was  a  woman  of 
strong  mind,  and  had  all  the  passion  of  love,  without 
any  of  its  romance.  .  She  felt,  moreover,  that  it  was 
very  possible  for  a  man  to  form  temporary  connexions, 
where  the  senses  only  were  interested,  and  yet  entertain 
an  exclusive  affection  for  a  virtuous  woman.  The  con- 
duct of  Delmaine,  therefore,  though  it  had  given  her 
pain,  had  by  no  means  induced  a  doubt  of  that  attach- 
ment which  his  manner  and  actions  so  unequivocally 
expressed.  The  word  Love,  it  is  true,  had  never  once 
escaped  the  lips  of  either,  but  it  was  absurd  to  suppose, 
that  where  the  heart  spoke  in  every  action,  the  mere 
declaration  of  attachment  could  be  considered  indispen- 
sable. The  openness  and  generosity  of  his  character, 
she  well  knew,  rendered  him  liable  to  temptation  ;  and 
she  was  also  aware  that,  when  tempted,  his  amiability 
of  disposition  with  women,  rendered  him  equally  liable 
to  fall ;  but,  strange  to  say,  she  secretly  determined  this 
to  be  rather  a  virtue  than  failing  ;  or,  if  a  failing,  one 
that  might  easily  be  pardoned,  since  it  was  a  pledge  of 
that  tenderness  of  nature  of  which  she  had  confidence 
enough  to  believe  she  could,  in  the  event  of  their  future 
union,  exclusively  possess  herself. 

That  Sir  Edward  and  her  father  had  both  regarded 
the  intimacy  which  subsisted  between  them,  with  a  fa- 
vourable eye,  wps  sufficiently  evident.  It  is  true  Del- 
maine's  repeated  absence  of  late,  from  their  little  circle, 
tiad  not  been  unobserved  by  the  latter  ;  but  Helen  knew 
that  her  father,  as  a  soldier,  and  as  a  man  of  the  world, 
possessed  too  much  liberality  of  nature  to  construe  into 
slight  for  her,  a  conduct  that  was  merely  the  result  of 
circumstances,  and  facility  of  attainment  in  pleasure. 

There  was  but  one  person  whom  she  seriously  appre- 
hended, and  with  whom  it  would  have  given  her  pain  to 
know  that  Delmaine  had  formed  even  an  acquaintance  ; 
that  individual  was  the  Frenchwoman  he  had  rescueil 
from  impending  death  on  the  Boulevard.  The  moment 
Helen  first  beheld  her,  she  felt  and  acknowledged  the 
power  of  fascination  which  such  a  woman  must  pos- 


216 


tCAKti* 


.;\i  a 


8688  over  a  being  so  completely  glowing  with  feeling 
as  our  hero.  The  first  pang  of  jealousy  she  had  ever 
known  was  on  that  occasion ;  yet,  even  while  pained  by 
her  presence,  she  had  been  completely  won  by  the  in- 
teresting style  of  her  beauty.  During  the.  first  few  days 
that  had  succeeded  to  this  meeting,  she  Had  repeatedly 
dwelt  on  the  subject,  and  formed  various  conjectures  as 
■  to  who  she  could  be,  and  whether  there  was  any  pro- 
bability of  Clifford  meeting  her  in  society.  As,  how- 
ever, she  never  appeared  in  the  circles  they  frequented, 
thf>^se  reflections  gradually  subsided,  and  with  them  dis- 
appeared, in  a  great  measure,  the  image  of  the  young 
Frenchwoman.  , 

Hitherto  the  dereliction  ofDelmaine  had  only  con- 
sisted in  his  not  appearing  so  frequently  as  usual  at  the 
Hotel  Mirabeau — a  positive  engagement  he  had  never 
refused : — it  was  reserved  for  the  evening  of  Astelli's 
party,  not  simply  to  decline,  but  to  break  one  already 
Entered  into.  The  party  to  the  opera  had  been  plan- 
ned some  days  before,  and  Helen,  in  a  playful  manner, 
and  in  the  presence  of  Dormer,  had  made  Clifford  posi- 
tively promise  not  to  engage  himself  elsewhere.  When, 
however,  his  note  of  apology  arrived  on  that  day,  she 
felt  pained  and  disappointed.  Then  it  was  that  she  first 
began  to  doubt  both  her  own  power  and  the  sincerity  of 
his  attachment.  The  colonel  also  was  evidently  offend- 
ed, although  he  made  no  remark,  and  that  feeling  was 
yet  powerful  in  his  mind,  when  Delmaine  called  on  tlie 
following  morning.  With  a  heart  ill  at  ease,  and  under 
the  influence  of  ^  unusual  sensation  of  despondency, 
Helen  had  accepted  the  challenge  of  Sir  Edward  to  a 
game  of  chess,  during  which,  and  prior  to  the  entrance* 
of  our  hero,  a  painful  silence  had  prevailed,  only  occa- 
sionally interrupted  by  the  languid  and  unconnected  re- 
marks of  Dormer  and  the  colonel. 

It  was  thi%  air  of  reserve  that  startled^  Clifford  as 
something  unusual,  and  calling  forth  a  correspond- 
ing coolness,  had  induced  his  early,  and  formal  dcpar 
ture  firom  a  bouse  where  he  was  led  both  by  his  extreme 


;*•  •  " 


,"*<■• 


J^CART^. 


m 


feeling 
ad  ever 
ined  by 
the  in- 
iw  days 
eatedly 
tures  as 
ny  pro- 
how- 
uented, 
em  dis- 
young 

ily  con- 
1  at  the 
d  never 
istelli's  i 
already 
n  plan- 
nanner, 
rd  posi- 
When, 
lay,  she 
she  first 
lerity  of 
offend- 
ng  was 
1  on  the 
i  under 
idency, 
d  to  a 
I  trance 
^  occa- 
ted  re- 

oM  as 
spond- 
tkpar 
xtreme 


susceptibility,  and  a  painful  consciousness  of  error,  to 
imagine  he  was  no  longer  welcome.  A  sickness  stole 
over  the  heart  of  Helen  as  he  left  the  room,  for  ihe 
clearly  perceived  under  what  feelings  and  impressions  he 
acted ;  and  the  affected  indifference  she  had  jnoroenta- 
rily  assumed  in  her  conversation  with  Dormer  at  once 
deserted  her.  The  colonel  remarked  the  change,  and| 
anxious  to  divert  her  attention,  expressed  a  desire  to 
dine  at  a  restaurateur^s,  and  to  go  from  thence  to  one 
of  the  theatres.  To  this  arrangement  she  reluctant- 
ly consented,  for  she  was  well  aware  that  her  father's 
proposal  originated  wholly  in  consideration  for  her; 
and  Dormer,  on  being  referred  to,  named  Beauvillier's, 
as  the  best  place  to  dine.  We  have  already  described 
the  unexpected  manner  in  which  Helen  first  encountered 
Delmaine  and  his  companion  ;  but  we  should  vainly  at- 
tempt to  describe  the  feelings  by  which  she  was  assailed. 
Had  it  not  been  for  the  support  afforded  her  by  Dormer, 
she  would  have  fallen.  Her  presence  of  mind,  however, 
was  almost  immediately  recovered,  and  she  moved 
quickly  forward  to  prevent  a  recognition  on  the  part  of 
her  father,  who,  she  felt  satisfied,  had  not  noticed  Clifl 
ford.  In  her  wretched  state  of  feeling,  she  would  have 
returned  home ;  but  a  disinclination  to  betray  the  full 
extent  of  her  mortification,  even  to  Dormer,  prevented 
her. 

If  the  heart  of  Helen  was  thus  deeply  wounded  by 
the  rencontre  at  the  restaurateur's,  what  must  she  not 
Jiave  experienced  when  she  beheld  our  hero  entering  the 
/oge  of  the  Feydeau,  accompanied  by  the  very  woman 
with  whom  she  could  least  endure  the  idea  of  his  hav- 
ing formed  an  intimacy.  In  the  confusion  of  her 
thoughts,  she  had  obtained  but  an  indistinct  view  of 
Adeline  at  Beauvillier's ;  but  now  that  she  was  ushered 
in  amid  the, glaring  light  of  the  theatre,  she  could  not 
for  a  moment  be  deceived.  Sick  and  disappointed,  she 
turned  her  head  away ;  but,  inheriting  all  the  pride  of 
her  father,  she  felt  the  necessity  for  subduing  her  feel- 
ing.   A  look  from  the  colonel,  whose  brow  had  been 

VOL,  I.  19 


\\-.f 


210 


tcAKrt. 


gradually  darkening  since  the  entrance  of  ClifTord,  en- 
cooraged  her  in  the  exertion,  and  she  finally  acquired 
sufficient  resolution  to  examine  the  features  of  the  fe> 
male,  which  then  appeared  to  her  even  more  lovely  and 
fascinating  than  ever.  Her  eyes  once  met  those  of 
Delmaine ;  hut  his  were  instantly  lowered  beneath  her 
glance :  and  there  was  so  much  confusion  in  his  man- 
ner, so  much  restraint  in  his  action,  that  she  was  satisfied 
he  was  far  from  being  at  his  ease ;  when  he  left  the  the- 
atre, she  actually  felt  for  his  situation. 

In  vain  did  she  torture  herself,  to  discover  by  what 
accident  he  had  renewed  his  acquaintance  with  the 
interesting  Frenchwoman ;  nor  was  it  until  after  his  de- 
parture, that  she  learnt,  from  the  observations  of  De 
Forsac,  the  true  motive  which  had  induced  Clifford  to 
break  the  engagement  of  the  preceding  evening.  Her 
feelings,  on  retiring  to  rest  that  evening,  may  easily  be 
conceived  ;  but,  whatever  might  be  the  strength  of  her 
afiection,  her  sense  of  the  indignity  offered  her  was  not 
inferior,  and,  for  the  first  time,  she  was  now  seriously 
offended  with  our  hero.  On  the  following  morning, 
while  waiting  for  Sir  Edward  to  join  them  in  the  break- 
fast room,  the  anonymous  letter  was  brought  to  the 
colonel,  who,  after  reading  it  attentively,  handed  it  to 
her.  Helen  perused  it  with  a  calmness  that  surprised 
him,  and  without  any  apparent  emotion. 

"  Though  I  hate  anonymous  communications,"  she 
observed,  folding  and  returning  the  letter,  ''  there  can 
be  but  little  doubt,  I  fancy,  in  regard  to  the  truth  of  this. 
The  writer,  however,  seems  to  be  a  very  officious  sort 
of  person,  and  evidently  but  too  anxious  to  impart  hh 
information." 

"  There  I  perfectly  agree  with  you,"  rejoined  the 
colonel ;  "  but  that  is  not  the  point.  It  is  sufficient  for 
lis  to  know,  that  the  facts  are  such  as  are  here  described. 
How  then  have  you  resolved  to  act,  Helen  ?" 

"  Can  you  deem  such  a  question  necessary,  my  fa- 
ther !"  said  Helen,  faintly  colouring. 

"  Dear,  proud  girl,"  cried  the  colonel,  pressing  her 


£cart£. 


219 


rd,  en- 
;quired 
the  fe- 
ly  and 
lose  of 
ath  her 


to  his  heart,  and  imprinting  a  kiss  upon  her  brow — 
*'  No ;  such  a  question  cannot  be  necessary,  since  I  feel 
tliat  you  will  never  act  in  a  manner  unworthy  either  of 
your  father,  or  of  yourself." 

The  entrance  of  the  baronet  at  this  moment  inter- 
rupted their  conversation.  '. 

But  although  Helen  had  determined  on  the  conduct 
to  be  pursued,  she  could  not  wholly  subdue  her  feelings ; 
and  while  her  fingers  wandered  unconsciously  over  the 
keys  of  her  piano,  her  thoughts  lingered  on  the  inte- 
resting and  agreeable  moments  she  had  passed  in  the 
society  of  our  hero,  between  whom  and  herself  an  insu- 
perable barrier  had  thus  suddenly  been  raised.  A  va- 
riety of  feelings  agitated  her  bosom,  and  she  felt  pained 
even  unto  despondency.  The  entrance  of  Dormer  gave 
a  relief  to  her  reflections  ;  but  only  inasmuch  as  she 
felt  the  necessity  for  excitement  in  his  presence,  for  in 
his  countenance  she  read  a  confirmation  of  her  worst 
apprehensions. 

"  Well,  I  have  seen  him,"  he  observed,  with  a  sort  of 
dogged  air,  drawing  a  chair  close  to  the  instrument, 
and  taking  her  hand ;  "  but  such  is  his  infatuation" — 

"  Say  no  more,  my  kind  friend,"  interrupted  Helen ; 
*'  I  know  it  all ;  and  though  I  may  be  weak  enough 
to  feel  hurt  at  his  conduct,  I  have  also  too  much  pride 
to  forgive  it  easily." 

"  How  delighted  I  am  to  hear  this  avowal  of  your 
sentiments,"  returned  Dormer.  "  The  fact  is,  that  Del- 
maine  is  utterly  unworthy  of  your  regard,  and  even  I 
have  no  more  hope  left  of  his  amendment.  He  has  suf- 
fered himself  to  be  made  a  complete  dupe.  But  how 
can  you  possibly  have  gained  your  information  ?" 

Helen  then  acquainted  him  with  the   circumstance 


of  the  anonymous  communication.  "  You  see,"  she 
added,  when  she  had  finished  the  detail,  "  that  some 
parts  of  it  agree  with  what  actually  passed  under  our 
own  observation." 

"  True,"  said  Dormer,  musing,  "  yet  I  have  my 
doubts  on  the  subject.    I  can  scarcely  believe  that  Clif- 


226 


£CART^. 


ford,  however  weak  and  culpable,  could  thus  have  been 
led  into  tlie  commission  of  such  intentional  insult.  Thi$>' 
is  in  unison  with  the  rest  of  the  plot ;  and  I  think  I  can 
say  with  certainty,  that  I  know  the  author  of  this  com- 
munication." 

"  What  plot  ?"  inquired  Helen,  with  earnestness  ; 
.   "  and  who  is  the  author  ?  what  do  you  mean,  Dormer  ?" 

Her  friend  then  related  the  conversation  he  had  over- 
heard the  preceding  evening.  Hclrn  was  thunderstruck 
/•'  at  the  intelligence,  but  now  that  the  veil  was  removed, 
she  thought  she  could  trace  a  thousand  circumstances, 
confirmatory  of  the  several  facts  he  detailed.  A  new 
feeling  of  hope  sprang  up  in  her  bosom  :  for,  convinced 
within  herself  that  Delmaine  had  duly  fallen  into  a  toil 
which  had  been  artfully  spread  for  him,  and  that  his 
f  conduct  had  simply  been  the  result  of  circumstances, 
she  felt  more  inclined  to  forgive  him.  It  was  the  humi- 
liating thought  that  he  could  have  been  induced,  iit 
compliance  with  the  caprices  of  an  artful  woman,  to 
offer  a  wanton  outrage  to  her  feelings,  that  had  almost 
struck  at  the  root  of  her  affection ;  but  now  that  she 
saw  a  probability  of  this  assertion  proving  false,  the 
'  weight  which  had  lingered  at  her  heart  Wt  f  gradually 
dissipating,  and  she  felt  more  disposed  to  find  excuses 
for  the  general  tenor  of  his  conduct. 

"  Good  Heavens !  you  astonish  me.  Dormer,"  she 
at  length  observed :  "  can  the  elegant  and  accomplished 
De  Forsac  really  prove  such  a  villain  ?  and  may  we 
hope  that  the  errors  of  Delmaine  are  only  to  be  ascribed 
to  him .?" 

Dormer  remarked  the  change  which  had  been  thus 
rapidly  operated  in  her  feelings  ;  he  recollected  the  de- 
claration made  by  Clifford,  that  Adeline  Dorjeville  was 
under  his  protection,  and  he  shook  his  head,  as  if  in 
doubt. 

"  I  am  afraid,"  he  returned,  "  that  Delmaine  has  but 
too  willingly  fallen  into  the  snares  of  the  marquis  ;  and 
I  wish— dearest  Helen,  forgive  me  if  I  seem  presump- 


•J^: 


I)  . 


/ 


l^:cARTi^. 


tsi 


to 


tuous— but  I  wish  you  could  think  leii  favourably  of 
him  than  you  do." 

"  Dormer/'  she  returned,  with  cnergv,  while  a  deep 
glow  suffused  her  cheek,  "  I  know — ^I  ieel  all  the  Inte- 
rest you  take  in  my  happiness.  It  would  be  UMleil  to 
deny  my  attachment  for  Clifford ;  yet,  believe  me,  I  ihall 
never  be  so  silly  as  to  cherish  a  sentiment  of  tenderneii 
for  a  man  who  evidently  prefers  another.  It  appetri 
to  me,  however,  that  you  view  the  dereliction  of  your 
friend  in  rather  too  unfriendly  a  light.  Delmtine  hai 
generous,  has  noble  feelings ;  and  though  he  may  yield 
to  a  temporary  infatuation,  when  he  once  awakcni  from 
the  delusion  into  which  he  has,  perhaps,  lomewhat  vo« 
luntarily  fallen,  depend  upon  it,  it  wdl  be  eflectually, 
and  to  a  proper  sense  of  what  is  due  not  only  to  himielf 
but  to  his  friends." 

Dormer  gazed  at  her  as  she  spoke,  with  a  blended 
feeling  of  pain  and  interest ;  but  the  annoyance  ho  mo- 
mentarily felt  at  his  rather  severe  though  indirect  re- 
proof, passed  away  as  a  shadow,  and  leil  him  open  to 
the  operation  of  more  generous  impressions.  He  could 
not  but  admire  the  firmness  and  constancy  of  an  attach- 
ment, which  nothing  but  positive  proof  of  degradation, 
or  insulting  unkindness,  could  weaken ;  and  he  more 
than  ever  regretted  the  folly  of  his  friend. 

"  Dearest  Helen  !"  he  exclaimed,  *'  theie  lentlmentg 
are  indeed  worthy  of  yourself.  Heaven  grant  that 
Delmaine  may  speedily  awaken  from  hii  ilmiion,  and 
experience  tlie  true  happiness  whicli  muit  ariio  from 
the  possession  of  a  woman  gifted  with  so  generoui  and 
afiectionate  a  mind." 

Helen  pressed  his  hand  in  silence.  «  Will  it  not  be 
well,"  she  inquired,  *'  to  communicate  to  my  father  what 
you  have  just  disclosed  to  me  ?  He  also,  in  conioquence 
of  the  anonymous  letter,  entertains  an  erroneous  imprei- 
sion,  and  as  he  feels  highly  offended  at  the  conduct  Qf 
Clifford,  I  could  wish  him  to  be  undeceivedi"    ' 

"  Not  yet,"  returned  Dormer :  "as  your  father  enter- 
taln«  the  highest  opinion  of  De  Foriac,  he  might  feel 

19* 


.) 


'»'\i 


X   ' 


222 


^CARTl^. 


inclined  to  palliate  any  charges  that  should  be  advanced 
against  him ;  let  us,  therefore,  keep  this  circumstance 
a  secret  for  tlie  present.  When  he  has  once  done  you 
the  honour  to  propose  for  you,  which  undoubtedly  he 
will  condescend  to  do,  the  colonel  will  better  under- 
stand why  a  motive  for  artifice  should  have  existed." 

To  this  Helen  assented  ;  and  Dormer  having  pro- 
mised to  avail  himself  of  the  first  opportunity  for  recon- 
ciliation with  his  friend,  was  about  to  follow  her  into  the 
next  apartment,  when  the  violent  ringing  of  the  bell 
suddenly  arrested  them. 

"  What  is  the  matter  now  ?"  he  demanded,  linp^erin^■ 
near  the  entrance  of  the  music-room  ;  '*  Is  it  Sir  Ed- 
ward's or  the  colonel's  impatience  that  is  thus  manifest- 
ed in  a  peal  which,  I  will  venture  to  say,  was  never 
before  rung  in  the  Hotel  Mirabeau." 

Helen  hesitated  also.  "  Heaven  only  knows,"  she 
replied  :  "  all  that  I  am  aware  of  is,  that  I  received  a 
hint  from  my  father,  to  retire  from  the  breakfast-table, 
as  he  wished  to  have  some  private  conversation  with 
Sit  Edward.  By  the  bye,"  she  pursued,  after  a  mo- 
ment's pause,  "  the  subject,  I  fancy,  relates  to  Clifford : 
Sir  Edward  this  morning  received  a  note  from  him, 
stating,  that  he  had  had  a  slight  misunderstanding  with 
you — is  this  really  the  case  ?"  *-  •  ,  -  • 

"  Misunderstanding  !"  echoed  Dormer,  impatiently  ; 
"  why,  it  certainly  was  a  misunderstanding,  if  by  that 
is  meant  a  determination  not  to  come  to  an  understand- 
ing at  all.  I  can  scarcely  bear  to  think  of  his  haughty 
and  overbearing  conduct.  I  went  to  him  this  morning, 
with  all  the  freedom  of  manner  and  warmth  of  feeling 
that  I  had  ever  entertained,  yet  I  could  have  almost 
fancied  myself  in  the  presence  of  the  Great  Mogul. 
When  I  offered  my  hand,  he  drew  himself  back  with  an 
air  of  insufferable  dignity,  and,  to  the  familiar  appella- 
tion of  Delmaine,  replied,  <  Mr.  Delmaine,  sir,  if  you 
please.'  In  short,  he  so  annoyed  me  by  his  formality  at 
one  moment,  and  his  warmth  of  opposition  to  any  at- 
tempt at  accusation  against  De  Forsac  at  another,  that 


I'  '.I . 


V- 


£cart£. 


22S 


]  left  him  in  a  rage ;  and,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  were  It 
not  for  the  stronjof  friendship  which  I  entertain  for  you,  I 
do  not  think  I  should  ever  venture  near  him  again." 

"  Nay,  my  dear  Dormer,"  exclaimed  Helen,  who  had 
vainly  attempted  to  supn^  ess  a  smile,  as  in  imagination 
(the  beheld  the  singular  mterview  of  the  two  friends,  "  be 
not  seriously  angry  with  him ;  you  itiay  be  assured  that 
liii  conduct  originated  altogether  in  pique,  and  that  he 
was  Just  as  much  annoyed  as  you  could  possibly  be.  I 
have  observed  a  coolness  between  you,  latterly,  and  am 
i|uitc  satisfied  that  Clifford  has  secretly  taxed  you  with 
Momo  fault,  of  which,  I  dare  say,  you  are  entirely  inno- 
cent." 

*'  Yet  what  could  be  his  motive,"  pursued  Dormer, 
*'  for  acquainting  Sir  Edward  with  the  circumstance  f 
This  is  what  I  cannot  understand." 

"  Why,  you  must  know,"  said  Helen,  "  that  he  makes 
this  a  plea  for  not  visiting  his  uncle,  as  he  says  he  is  cer- 
tain of  meeting  you  with  us,  and  that  such  a  meet- 
ing might  be  unpleasant  to  both  parties.  His  real  mo- 
tive is,  however,  evident :  after  the  events  of  last  even- 
ing, he  naturally  dreads  a  meeting  vith  my-father  and 
myself.  His  excuse  is  weak  :  but  did  you  ever  know  a 
man  conscious  of  wrong,  who  could  offer  a  good  one  ?" 

"  Now,  then,  I  understand,"  replied  Dormer.  "  But 
what  answer  has  Sir  Edward  returned,  or  has  he  return- 
ed any  at  all  ?" 

"  That  I  cannot  possibly  say,"  resumed  Helen.  "  It 
was  almost  immediately  after  the  arrival  of  his  note,  that 
1  received  my  conge." 

"  As  this,  then,  seems  to  be  a  family  consultation- 
day,"  said  Dormer,  "  I  think  I  shall  leave  you." 

"  Will  you  not  wait,  and  hear  the  result  ?"  inquired 
Helen.    ♦*  I  dare  say  we  shall  be  let  into  the  secret." 

**  Oh,  by  no  means  !"  exclaimed  Dormer ;  "that  peal 
of  the  bell  has  quite  disconcerted  me.  I  would  not  face 
the  angry  mood  of  him  who  pulled  it,  for  the  world." 

"  And  so  you  intend  to  leave  me  to  bear  the  shock ! 
Well,  this  is  not  particularly  friendly,  I  must  confess, 


r^ 


Aar„ 


.'  i 


m 


iCAKti. 


'\ 


Mr*  Dormer,"  replied  Helen,  with  an  affectation  of 
pique. 

**•  But  why  remain  alone  f  Or  is  it  too  unfashionable 
an  hour  for  you  to  venture  forth  f" 

*'  An  excellent  idea,"  rejoined  Helen ;  "  it  will  be 
much  better  employment  than  torturing  this  piece  of 
music.  But  where  shall  we  go  ?  It  is  too  early  for  vi- 
siting—too unfashionable  either  for  the  Tuileries  or  for 
the  Champs  Elyslies — and  certainly  too  far  for  the  Jar- 
din  des  Plantes.     Can  you  think  of  no  other  place  ?" 

"  Suppose  we  venture  as  far  as  the  Bosquets  of  the 
Tivoli  r  The  distance  is  not  very  great ;  and  the  beau- 
ty of  the  garden  will  repay  you  for  the  walk." 

To  this  Helen  assented  ;  and,  having  thrown  on  her 
bat  and  shawl,  and  left  word  for  the  colonel  where  she 
was  gone,  she  sallied  forth  on  her  ramble. 

Delmaine,  in  the  mean  time,  had  repaired  to  the^Rue 
de  la  Chaussde  d*  Antin,  where  the  grateful  Adeline  was 
awaiting  his  return,  with  feelings  of  unmixed  tenderness 
and  pleasure.  Never  had  she  appeared  more  affec- 
tionatet  ban  at  the  moment  of  his  re-appearance,  and  in 
the  warmth  of  her  reception,  he  endeavoured  to  forget 
the  annoyances  by  which  he  was  assailed.  Her  large 
blue  eyes  were  moist  with  tears ;  but  they  were  tears 
produced  by  the  very  calm  and  abandonment  of  her  feel- 

MlgS. 

Clifford  had  nearly  forgotten  the  whole  world  in 
the  ardour  of  his  admiration,  when  a  slight  tap  at  the 
door  of  the  apartment  recalled  him  from  his  trance.  h\ 
the  next  instant,  Madame  Dorjeville  entered.  She 
feenied  surprised  at  his  presence,  and  made  a  movement 
to  retire.  Adeline  sprang  from  the  sofa,  and  with  n 
**  BotyouVf  Mamant  threw  her  arms  round  her  neck, 
and  kissed  her.  Her  dress  was  disordered,  her  hair 
loose,  and  her  countenance  highly  flushed.  This  did 
not  escape  the  observation  of  her  mother. 

''  IlpwaU  gueje  mis  detirop"  she  observed,  with  etu 
air  %*!! unconcern.    *<  Je  me  retire" 

**  Du  tout,  Aimian"  returned  Adeline,  seizing  her 


imimf  mf4nn%0' ^mit^it^  **^f\ilf^0m-f  y^^y^^  ' 


^CART^. 


1^25 


hand,  and  Conducting  her  to  the  couch.  "  Oest  seule- 
ment  Monsieur  •Delmaitts,  qui  a  eu  la  bonte  de  venir  me 
rendre  visite."  '  . 

Madame  Dorjeville  now,  for  the  first  time,  seemed 
fully  to  recognise  her  compagnon  de  voyage.  She  apo- 
logized for  the  delay  she  had  made  in  returning  the  ob- 
ligation she  was  under  to  him  ;  and  after  making  some 
futile  excuse  about  forgetting  his  place  of  residence, 
put  her  hand  into  her  reticule,  as  if  in  search  of  her 
purse. 

As  she  well  knew,  however,  that  there  was  no  purse 
there,  and  after  searching,  in  vain,  for  five  minutes,  she 
exclaimed — "  Mais,  man  Dieu,  est-il  possible  9  fat 
laisse  ma  bottrse,  etfai  unpayement  a  f aire  sur  le  champs 
Adeline i  ma  fitte,  prUez  moi  trots  cents  francs  ;  j'e  te  les 
rendrai ce  soir."       't-'  .^'•>:  .     >?^^^^ 

"  Heuremement  je  les  ai,  Mamanf'**  cried  Adeline,, 
casting  a  look  of  tender  acknowledgment  on  Clifford, 
as  she  rose  and  went  to  an  inner  apartment. 

In  a  few  minutes  she  returned,  saying  that  she  had 
sent  a  note  out  to  be  changed.        .'(/'_  ■(:■' 

"  It  win  be  too  late,"  cried  Madame  Dorjeville,  witld 
vivacity.  "  Have  you  no  gold  whatever  by  you  ?  How 
unfortunate !"  she  pursued,  as  Adeline  shook  her  head 
in  reply. 

Delmaine's  hand  was  on  the  purse  which  contained  his 
rouleau  of  Napoleons.  The  stage  coach  incidents  oc- 
curred to  him,  and  he  hesitated.  He  looked  at  Adeline  ; 
her  eyes  were  tenderly  riveted  on  his,  and  he  decided. 
His  hand  glided  from  his  purse  to  his  note-case.  He 
took  it  from  his  pocket,  and  selecting  a  five  hundred 
franc  note,  handed  it  to  Madame  Dorjeville. 

"  As  you  are  in  a  hurry,"  he  observed,  "  perhaps 
you  will  permit  me  to  become  your  banker  for  the  mo-^ 
ment."    ^^f  ;7*?\-^-^^?*^-^^^a;-     ■    ■     "  :;.,■ 

"Oh,  impossible!"  exclaimed  Madame  Dorjeville. 
**  I  cannot  think  of  such  a  thing.  Recollect,  Mr.  Del- 
maine,  that  I  am  in  your  debt  already."  Yet  her  hand 
lingered  on  the  note,  in  a  way  that  implied  how  delight- 


(I 


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ifiCART^. 


.;# 


li 


/     '' V 


I- 


(( 


(( 


ed  she  should  feel  to  have  it  forced  upon  her  accept- 
ance. 

~     "  Nay,"  said  ClifTord,  abandoning  it  to  her  grasp, 
"  you  will  really  oblige  me  by  taking  it." 

"  Well,  I  suppose  I  must  accept  it.  Adeline,  I  shall 
send  you  the  money,  and  you  must  repay  Mr.  Delmaine 
for  me.  Now,  then,  I  am  off.  This  person  is  so  parti- 
cular about  his  payments.  A  propos,  ma  fiUe"  she 
added,  as  she  rose  to  leave  the  room,  **  que  fais-tu  ce 
sairT' 

"  Mais  rien,  Maman — -fait-on  quelque  chose  ?" 

"  Ne  saiS'tupas  que  c'est  la  soiree  de  Madame  Bour- 
deux  ?   Ensuite^  ily  aura  hal  masque  chez  Frascati." 

Adeline  looked  at  Chfford,  and  smiled.  "  You  know 
you  are  particularly  engaged,"  she  remarked.  "  How 
do  you  feel  disposed  ?" 

I  am  ready  to  do  whatever  you  please,"  he  rephed. 
Well,  then,  suppose  we  go  ?  C^est  une  affaire 
faite"  she  pursued,  as  she  read  his  assent  in  his  coun- 
tenance. 

"  A  ce  soir^  donc,^^  said  Madame  Dorjeville.  "  Adieu, 
Adeline — honjour,  Mousieur  Delmaine"  and  she  quit- 
ted the  apartment  with  a  face  b  aming  with  smiles, 
and  a  step  as  light  as  that  of  a  young  fawn. 

Adeline  moved  towards  the  window ;  Dehnaine  fol- 
lowed, and  threw  his  arm  around  her  waist.  .  -     ;• 

*•  Adieu  !"  said  Madame  Dorjeville,  a  moment  after- 
wards, kissing  her  hand  to  them  from  the  street.     ,.  , . 

"  Adieu,"  replied  Adeline. 

The  voices  attracted  the  attention  of  a  lady  and  gen- 
tleman who  were  walking  on  the  opposite  side.  They 
looked  up  at  the  window  of  the  apartment. 

"  P'oyez  /"  said  Adeline,  involuntarily,  and  starting 
from  his  embrace. 

Clifford  looked,  and  felt  all  his  assumed  gayety  of 
heart  vanish  into  air,  as  he  beheld  Miss  Stanley  and 
Frederick  Dormer ! 


'i-- 


:;-J  Y'V^r 


■,v  t  v.: 


-:.N 


'— •^i»-*-*'«Pf*'  »--*»-A  -^r-  — <»'-i>  ♦ 


"'-'-•s     8, 


t( 


227 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


^■i 


^^S.<!^;'^^;V:'v■^.•tf    i^iw.', 


The  scene  which  met  the  gaze  of  our  hero,  at  the 
handsome  hotel  of  Madame  Bourdeaux,  was  nearly  si-^ 
milar  to  that  which  he  had  witnessed  at  Astelli's.  The 
only  difference  was,  that  there  was  no  dancing,  and 
that  the  costume  of  the  visiters  was  less  brilliant,  and 
the  preparations  for  their  reception  less  recherchees.  Yet 
every  where,  the  same  bustle  and  excitement  were  dis- 
cernible; and  so  eagerly  engaged  in  play  were  the 
numerous  groups  scattered  throughout  the  apartments, 
that  his  presence  was  for  some  time  unnoticed  even  by 
the  mistress  of  the  establishment  herself.  The  counte- 
nance of  each  individual  wore  a  peculiar  expression  of 
selfishness  ;  a  thirst  for  gain  seemed  to  be  the  leading 
stimulus  to  exertion  ;  and  even  the  common  courtesies 
of  life  were  occasionally  forgotten  in  the  anxiety  and 
impatience  manifested  by  players  of  both  sexes.  An 
angry  feeling  pervaded  the  breasts  of  the  losers  against 
those  who  were  more  fortunate ;  and  discussions  fre- 
quently took  place  between  the  opposing  parties,  which 
of  course  seldom  terminated  to  the  satisfaction  of  both. 

Ladies,  whose  smiles  had  recently  been  lavished  on 
attentive  cavaliers,  now  frowned  upon  them,  as  they  per- 
ceived that  their  interests  were  embarked  in  the  oppo- 
site scale ;  and  men  whose  lips  had  only  the  moment 
before  given  utterance  to  sounds  of  tenderness  and  ad- 
miration, scrupled  not  to  take  every  advantage  over 
their  fair,  but  no  less  interested  antagonists.  Age  and 
decrepitude  here  suffered  the  remnant  of  their  strength 
to  be  wasted  and  lost  in  the  clamorous  appeals  of  the 
more  youthful ;  while  in  the  half-sunken  eye,  imbedded 
in  film,  and  rolling  anxiously  in  its  socket,  and  in  the 
shrivelled,  bony,  palsied  hand,  eagerly  stretched  forth 


4 


-r'.-r-ih- 


228 


l^CART^^ 


H 


it 


1 


u 


rW 


to  grasp  a  solitary  fraric  stake,  might  be  traced  the  yet 
vigorous  existence  of  a  passion,  which  even  the  terrors 
of  impending  death  co^d  not  extinguish  or  restrain. 

This  was  a  scene  which  might  be  viewed,  abstract- 
edly, as  well  by  the  young  as  by  the  old,  by  the 
thoughtless  as  well  as  by  the  reflecting,  not  only  with- 
out danger,  but  with  advantage.  But,  unhappily  for 
all  parties,  neither  the  unamiable  anxiety  manifested  by 
the  young  players,  nor  the  sordid  and  more  disgusting 
selfishness  of  the  aged,  was  likely  to  occupy  thfeir  atten- 
tion, where  beauty  of  person,  brilliancy  of  wit,  and  fas- 
cination of  manner,  were  so  well  calculated  to  throw  a 
veil  over  the  imperfections  of  the  former ;  while  the 
more  glaring  avarice  of  the  latter  excited  no  profounder 
sentiments  than  those  of  derision  and  amusement.  It 
was,  moreover,  curious  to  observe  the  changes  operated 
in  the  feelings  of  individuals,  as  the  fluctuations  of  the 
game  caused  them  to  espouse  opposite  sides.  How  dif- 
ferent were  the  impressions  of  two  beings,  whose  inti- 
macy was  ripening  into  a  warmer  feeling,  when  betting 
on  the  same  hand,  and  V^hen  embracing  adverse  sides ! 
The  antipodes  were  not  more  opposite.  Of  this  many 
of  the  more  experienced  among  the  men  were  sufliciently 
aware,  and  no  one  who  sought  to  win  the  favour  of  the 
lady  of  his  choice,  wo  aid  have  dreamt  of  opposing  him- 
self to  her  at  play :  thus  proving  that  selfishness  is  ever, 
and  to  a  certain  extent,  the  secret  spring  of  all  our  ac- 
tions, and  verifying  a  remark  which  we  have  read  in  an 
unpretending  production  of  the  day,  that    ,^  ,,  .    v 


'*  Man  loves  but  self  in  all  he  seems  to  love. 


•*, 


'  Never  had  Delmaine  been  more  in  the  humour  to 
seize  the  less  amiable  features  of  the  scene  before  him. 
Leaving  Adeline  loitering  near  a  table,  he  threw  him- 
self on  a  vacant  ottoman,  and  casting  his  eyes  rapidly 
over  the  various  groups  of  players,  he  followed  for  a 
time  the  action  of  the  several  passions  upon  each.  An 
old  man,  nearly  eighty  years  of  age,  dressed  in  a  drab^ 
coloured  coat,  and  decorated  with  a  red  ribband,  sat  a.t 


...-JL.:.-..,.. 


..%.  'r  '■  •. 


ul 


^CARTlf. 


229 


i)ie  table  opposite  to  him.  His  person  was  emaciated, 
and  his  appearance  altogether  such  as  we  have  generally 
described  above.  The  game  had  just  terminated,  and 
the  spoil,  for  such  it  might  be  called,  was  eagerly  claimed 
and  shared  by  the  winners.  The  feeble  voice  of  the 
aged  gambler  had  been  drowned  in  the  numerous  ap- 
plications made  by  the  more  active  and  robust  of  lungs; 
but  his  withered  hands  were  still  stretched  out  in  violent 
action  for  his  claim.  At  length,  every  other  demand 
having  been  paid,  and  every  tongue  of  course  silent  for 
the  moment,  the  winning  player  inquired  "  what  he 
wanted  ?" 

"  //  7ne  faut  deux  francs^  Monsieur,^''  said  the  old 
man,  in  a  shrill  tremulous  voice,  and  coughing  faintly 
from  the  bottom  of  his  chest.         >  iiv  "^ Ivit  ^i'  -^  ■ 

"  Mais^  Monsieur^  il  ne  me  reste  plus  d' argent "  was 
the  reply;  "  J^ai  toutpaye." 

*^  Je  ne  saurais  perdre  ma  mise^'*  said  the  dotard, 
trembling  like  an  aspen  leaf.  "/*««  mis  un  francy  etj'e 
dm  en  recevoir  deux.  Madame,^*  turning  to  an  old  wo- 
man at  his  side,  nearly  as  aged  as  himself,  "  vous  Vavez 
hien  rw." 

"  Oui,  Monsieur,  vous  avez  assurement  mis  une  piece 

de  vingt  sorn,''^  squeaked  the  withered  female  appealed  to. 

,  "  Comment  f aire  V  said  the  player  originally  called 

on  for  the  stake,  "^e  ne  puis  rendre  compte  de  toutesles 

misesJ'''   ■ 

"  Tenez,  Monsieur"  said  a  young  woman,  richly  at- 
tired, who  had  just  lost  a  very  large  stake,  and  who,  in 
her  eagerness  to  commence  another  game,  was  now  de- 
sirous that  the  discussion  should  cease :  "  void  deux 
francs;  je  vous  en  fais  cadeau;  et  maintenant  que  'Sous 
avez  reguvotre  mise,leconseilqueje  vousdonne,  c'est  de 
v(ms  retirer.  Un  bon  lit  vous  serait  plus  saluiaire  d,  voire 
age  que  le  tumuMe  de  ce  salon" 

A  general  tittering  succeeded  to  this  excellent  advice, 
but  the  vieillard  seemed  to  have  formed  a  different  opi- 
nion on  the  subject.  In  no  way  discouraged  by  the 
r  VOL.1.    \  20.  .::v^'  •.     '      .:K>:;'v,. 


230 


^cart£. 


lectnret  he  turned  to  his  female  companion,  and  with  a 
ghastly  smile,  exclaimed-— 

"  Kous  wyezy  Madame,  ce  que  c'est  que  la  perseve- 
rance;" then,  holding  out  one  of  tlie  francs,  which  he 
had  unhesitatingly  accepted,  and  addressing  the  dealer, 
"  TeneZj  Monsieur ;  v^ez  hien  cettefm^^ai  une  mist 
de  vingt  sous,''* 

Again  the  party  around  the  table  began  to  titter ;  and 
the  dealer,  taking  the  franc  out  of  his  palsied  hand, 
held  it  contemptuously  between  his  fore-finger  and 
thumb,  asking  with  a  sneer, 

**  Old  iiendracette  piece  de  vingt  sous?"     - 

"  Personne"  some  one  answered  from  the  opposite 
side. 

"  Vous  voyez,  Monsieur"  said  the  dealer,  returning 
the  money,  "  on  neletientpas — ilfant  leretirer." 

"  Mais,  mon  Dieu,  c'est  unique"  exclaimed  the  old 
man,  in  a  rage,  *'  qiCon  ne  veut  pas  tenir  seulemefd  une 
piece  de  vingt  sous-^e  nejouerdi  plus  id." 

Another  laugh  followed  this  threat,  as  the  disappoint- 
ed Chevalier,  for  such  he  was,  rose  firom  his  seat,  and, 
supporting  bis  emaciated  frame  on  a  rich  old-fashioned 
gold-headed  cane,  moved  towards  a  distant  table. 

"  Thank iGod,  he  is  gone,"  said  the  female,  who  had 
given  him  the  amount  of  his  contested  stake  ;  he  does 
notihing  but  interrupt  the  game,  and  take  up  all  the 
space  with  his  paltry  twenty-sous  stakes.  Would  you 
believe,"  she  said,  turning  to  a  lady,  who  sat  next  to  her, 
"  that  this  old  fellow,  wlio  spends  night  after  night  in 
^e  different  «a/ora«,  winning  or  losing  a  few  paltry  ecus, 
is  worth  at  least  half  a  million  of  francs  !"  ?h 

"  Oh,  Dieu,  est-41  possible  9  Sije  ks  avals  moif  Nf 
pourrait-on  pas  empmnter  quelques"  billets  de  milk 
francs  9  Est-il  gar f on  9 — A-t-il  line  Jille  dmarierV' 
were  among  the  numerous  exclamations  which  burst 
from  the  lips  of  those  around,  at  the  announcement  of 
this  intelligence. 

"  Cotnme  tout  ce  bavardage  retard  lejeu,"  half  mur- 
mufed  a  voice  close  to  the  ear  of  our  hero,  in  an  angry 


-%    ■■■^  - 


l^CART^. 


9S1 


tone.  He  turned  round,  and  recognised  Madame  Bour* 
deaux,  who  sat  tapping  her  foot  on  the  floor  with  a 
movement  of  impatience,  as  she  perceived  the  deity 
thus  occasioned  in  the  game.  An  ivory  counter  wai  in 
her  hand — in  a  moment  of  fretfulness,  slie  snapped  it  in 
two,  and  flung  the  pieces  away  with  an  air  of  bu- 
mour. 

"  Madamey  c'est  a  voiis  a  conper"  at  length  remarked 
the  dealer  to  his  adversary.  This  put  an  end  to  the 
conversation ;  the  cards  were  cut,  and  the  game  again 
commenced.  The  frown  passed  away  from  Madame 
Bourdeaux's  brow,  like  an  April  cloud  from  before  th« 
sun,  and  she  turned,  and  saluted  Delmaine  in  her  moit 
courteous  manner.  -  Alive,  however,  to  what  was  pall- 
ing, her  vigilant  eye  was  every  where,  and  in  the  next 
instatit  she  rose  to  drop  a  counter  at  a  distant  table, 
where  a  game  was  just  terminated. 

From  the  table  which  the  old  man  had  just  quitted, 
our  hero  cast  his  eye  upon  the  next ;  his  glance  wai 
cursory,  but  it  at  length  fell  upon  an  object  well  calcu- 
lated to  claim  a  more  than  ordinary  degree  of  attention* 
At  the  further  extremity,  and  immediately  facing  him, 
sat  a  woman,  apparently  about  eight  and  twenty  yean 
of  age ;  her  eyes  were  large,  dark  and  languishing ;  her 
hair,  surmounted  by  a  white  velvet  toque,  looped  with 
diamonds,  was  of  a  death^black  colour,  and  hung  in 
luxuriant  curls  pn  either  side,  leaving  exposed  to  view  a 
forehead  of  snowy  whiteness,  interseqted  by  veini  of 
the  most  transparent  blue.  She  wore  a  low  dr«M  of 
satin,  similar  in  colour  to  her  toque,  and  bordered  on 
the  top  with  a  rich  blonde^  which  alone  marked  the  point 
of  division  between  the  splendid  material  and  the  ItiU 
more  splendid  bosom  it  but  imperfectly  veiled*  Her 
figure  evidently  inclined  to  the  embonpoint^  though  it 
was  chastened  ?ad  robbed  of  all  appearance  of  heavi- 
ness by  the  svelte  proportions  of  her  waist.  Her  armit 
naked  nearly  to  the  shoulders,  and  of  dazzling  fairneilf 
also  betrayed  a  variety  of  rich  blue  veins  through  their 
transparent  surface ;  the  left  hung  negligently  ill  her 


;V 


232 


icXHTt. 


tli 


Jap ;  the  right  leaned  on  the  back  of  a  gentleman^s  chair, 
who  sat  next  to  her ;  while  the  delicate  white  hand  by 
which  it  was  terminated,  played  with  the  tresses  that 
wantoned  over  her  rich  dark  cheek. 

When  Clifford  first  beheld  this  lady,  her  eyes  were 
fixed  upon  him,  with  that  softness  and  languor  for  which 
they  were  so  remarkable.  He  gazed  for  a  moment,  and 
the  blood  rushed  violently  into  his  face,  for  he  had  en- 
countered an  expression  which  he  deeply  felt,  but  could 
not  analyze.  The  cheek  of  the  stranger  also  became  < 
suffused  with  a  deeper  glow.  She  closed  her  eyes  tremu- 
lously before  his— opened  them  again  with  the  same 
singular  expression— and  then,  turning  to  the  gentle* 
man  on  whose  chair  she  leaned,  whispered  something  in 
his  ear.  Delmaine  followed  ^the  direction  of  her  glance, 
and,  to  his  surprise,  beheld  De  Forsac,  whom  hitherto 
he  had  not  noticed.  The  marquis  looked  towards  him, 
waved  his  hand,  and  nodded  and  smiled  his  recognition. 
He  then  resumed  his  original  position,  and  seemed  en- 
tirely absorbed  in  the  game  on  which  he  was  betting; 
the  female  also  resumed  hers;  her  glances  were  frequent, 
and  wore  the  same  languishing  character.  Insensibly, 
those  of  Delmaine  became  impassioned ;  his  cheek  was 
more  highly  flushed,  and  his  hand  was  already  on  its 
way  to  his  lips,  when  a  voice  at  his  side  startled  and 
recalled  him  to  his  senses.  ^^' 

"He  bien!  monam^  qm  fais-tu  Id  tout  setdT^  in- 
quired Adeline^  for  it  was  her. 

"  Jejoue  le  role  d^dbsermtmry''  he  replied,  with  an 
attempt  at  indifference ;  but  the  excitement  of  his  feel- 
ings was  yet  too  forcibly  marked  on  his  countenance  not 
to  be  detected. 

*'  VoyoMy''  she  exclaimed,  with  apparent  playfulness, 
but  with  secret  anxiety;  ^^ixjyom  le  sujet  de  vos  reflex- 
ions;"  and,  seating  herself  at  his  side,  she  turned  her 
eyes  in  the  direction  in  which  he  had  been  gazing. 
Glancing  rapidly  among  the  groun  at  the  table,  she 
soon  distinguished  the  beautiful  stranger;  their  eyes 
met,  and  the  colour  receded  from  the  cheeks  of  both, 


!i;fil.y:ia 


•  ••^  <*' 


.1  [ 


£CART1^. 


233 


in- 


In  the  next  instant  the  stranger  rose  from  her  seat,  and 
stood  looking  over  the  hand  of  one  of  the  players;  Del- 
maine  could  not  avoid  following  the  movement  with  his 
eyes,  and  glancing  rapidly  over  the  rich  prop(Mtions  of 
her  figure. 

"  VietU'tu  de  faire  le»  yeux  doux  a  cette  dame  9^^ 
demanded  Adeline,  still  pale,  and  in  a  voice  broken  by 
emotion. 

Delmaine  felt  her  hand  tremble  as  he  took  it.  "  Maii 
ttOttt  chere  amie,  pourquoi  me  demande  tu  cela  T* 

"  Ohj  je  ne  sais  pas,*^  she  exclaimed,  "  mait  j'e  la 
craim  tant  cette  femme;  on  la  dit  Vetre  le  plm  uduc- 
teur  dti  monde ;  promets-moi  que  tu  ne  fera  Jamais  ta 
connaissance" 

"  Je  te le promets"  rejoined  Clifford;  "Je  ne  U  ferai 
pas;^^  and  as  he  spoke,  he  glanced  furtively  at  the  stran- 
ger. Her  gaze  again  met  his,  and  with  the  same  ex- 
citing expression  that  he  had  previously  encountered. 
At  that  moment  he  felt  how  vain  must  prove  the  pro- 
mise he  had  just  given,  were  an  opportunity  but  a0ord- 
ed  him,  and  he  shuddered  at  his  duplicity. 
-■Unwilling,  however,  to  give  pain  to  Adeline  by  even 
an  appearance  of  interest  in  the  stranger,  he  sauntered 
with  her  towards  a  distant  table,  where  a  group  of  very 
high  players  were  watching  the  result  of  a  game  with 
anxious  and  silent  interest.  Among  the  rest  was  Ma- 
dame Dorjeville ;  her  cheek  was  highly  flushed,  and, 
from  the  agitation  of  her  manner,  it  was  evident  to  our 
hero  tHat  fortune  was  against  her ;  she  lost  the  partie, 
und  immediately  occupying  the  seat  which  had  been 
vacated  by  the  unsuccessful  player,  drew  forth  her  purse 
with  a  trembling  hand,  and  emptied  its  contents  upon 
the  table.  Adeline  remarked  her  excitement ;  and,  ap- 
j)roaching,  whispered,  what  it  was  evident,  from  the  an- 
swer, was  a  remonstrance  against  the  folly  of  risking 
fio  much  gold  on  a  single  game,  especially  as  the  veine 
was  so  completely  established  on  the  opposite  side. 

^  Til  m^ennuyPy  ma  filled'*  jshe  exclaimed,  witii  a 


[/ 


.V.    >'.%    '       K,  - 


234 


'\  '- 


tCkfii.'tt. 


u 


movement  of  impatience ;  **  Umsez-moifairefjen^aipafi 
h€8oindet€»c<mseili»^ 

Adeline  sighed  and  withdrew.  She  looked  at  Del- 
maine,  as  if  to  observe  the  impression  produced  on  him 
by  the  conduct  of  her  mother. 

The  game  was  soon  terminated,  and,  as  she  had  ap- 

Erehended,  in  favour  of  the  adverse  party.  Madame 
^orjeville  rose  abruptly  from  her  seat,  and  exclaiming, 
with  a  bitter  laugh,  "  Dieu  merci,  Je  n^ai  plm  un  soUy^^ 
threw  herself  on  a  canape  at  some  little  distance,  where 
her  impatience  and  ill  humour  broke  forth  in  occasional 
invective  against  the  unlucky  run  of  the  maudites  cartes t 
the  veine  assommante  of  the  adverse  party,  and  the  folly 
of  attending  to  the  comeiU  of  advisers,  who  knew 
Ij^Othing  whatever  of  the  game.  When  she  had  ex- 
hausted her  spleen  in  this  manner,  she  beckoned  to 
Adeline,  and  a  low,  but  animated  conversation  ensued 
between  them.  Clifford  observed,  that  the  manner  of 
the  young  girl  was  that  of  supplication  and  remon- 
strance, while  that  of  her  mother  appeared  determined 
and  peremptory.  At  length,  Madame  Dorjeville, 
smoothing  her  brow,  and  moving  with  an  air  of  non- 
chalance,  came  up  and  asked  him  to  lend  her  fifteen  or 
twenty  pieces,  with  which,  she  said,  she  hoped  to  regain 
her  losses.  Our  hero  immediately  took  twenty  pieces 
of  gold  from  his  purse,  and  handed  them  to  her,  though, 
while  he  did  so,  he  could  not  avoid  calling  to  mind  the 
period  when  he  had  hesitated  to  offer  her  even  half  thai 
sum,  and  for  a  much  more  virtuous  purpose.  But  Ma- 
dame Dorjeville  was  not  then  known  to  him  as  the  mother 
of  his  mistress,  and  even  he,  generous  as  he  was  by  na- 
ture, was  not  altogether  inst  sible  to  considerations  of 
self  in  his  intercourse  with  the  world ;  the  next  moment 
saw  her,  radiant  in  smiles,  and  confident  of  success^ 
seated  once  more  at  the  ecarte  table,  and  Delmaine 
turned  away  with  a  feeling  of  disgusL 

He  threw  himself  again  upon  the  ottoman  he  had  pre- 
viously occupied,  and  was  indulging  in  no  very  pleasing 
reflections,  when  two  young  Englishmen  sat  down  be- 


f  -■<■. 


iojLKTi* 


807 


It  pan 

iDel- 
him 


side  him.    They  Were  conversing  about  tb«  betutlAil 
stranger. 

"  She  is  certainly  a  most  superb  creature,"  laid  oiMt 
"  Do  you  linow  who  she  is  f" 

«  Never  saw  her  before  to-night,"  wai  the  reply; 
*'  but  see,  that  fellow,  De  Forsac,  is  laying  close  liege 
to  her — that  man  is  my  horror." 
J  *'  What !  jealous,  Widewood  f  Can  you,  who  poiMls 
a  golden  key  to  the  hearts  of  half  the  Parisian  women, 
possibly  be  jealous  of  this  broken-down  marquli?  They 
say  your  boudoir  is  like  the  harem  of  the  Grand  Turk. ' 

"  Not  absolutely  jealous,"  replied  the  other,  care- 
lessly, "  but  such  is  his  plausibility  of  manner,  that  he  ii 
said  to  get  hold  of  every  woman  worth  looking  at,  be- 
fore anot^ier  man  has  time  to  commence  his  approachei. 
By  tlie  way,  Randall,  how  is  Clemence?" 

The  female  now  alluded  to  had  been  a  chere  amie  of 
De  Forsac.  Randall  knew  it,  and  took  the  question 
as  it  was  intended,  though  without  appearing  to  show 
that  he  did  so. 

"She  was  very  well  this  morning,  when  w©  parted 
for  ever,"  he  replied.  I  suppose  you  are  not  awure  that 
we  have  cut  the  concern."  t"  .'.iT 

"  Not  I,  indeed — how  is  this — Jealousy,  infldolity,  or 
what  r" 

"  Neither,"  resumed  Randall ;  •'  but  latterly  her 
memoires  came  tumbling  in  so  thick  whenever  I  was 
with  her,  that  I  was  even  compelled  to  quarrel  with  her 
in  self-defence.  She  always  made  it  a  practice  to  have 
her  bills  sent  in  at  those  moments  when  she  expected  J 
should  be  vt'th  her,  and  I,  of  course,  could  not  do  lei!i 
than  pay  '  jtn ;  but  finding  that  my  (innncea  were  get- 
ting to  a  \cry  low  ebb  in  consequence  of  theie  repeated 
drains,  I  yesterday  made  up  my  mind  to  stop  payment, 
as  old  Lafitte  would  say.  Well — will  you  believe  it  f— 
while  I  was  with  her  this  morning,  a  mhn&ire  nearly  &,» 
long  as  my  arm  was  produced.  As  usual,  she  expected 
that  I  should  inquire  what  it  was,  but  I  ve^  couly  helped 
myself  to  coffee,  and  took  no  notice  of  it.   Thin,  huwever, 


y 


♦  - 1 


236 


fCART^. 


.-t 


did  not  luit  Mademoiselle  G16mence.  When  ihe  found 
that  I  was  resolved  not  to  see  it,  she,  without  any  cere- 
mony, handed  the  bill  o\  >r  to  me,  and  requested  that  1 
would  pay  it." 

**  Which  you  were  silly  enough  to  do,  of  course," 
interrupted  Widewood. 

"  Not  I,  faith ;  for  on  looking  at  the  sum  total,  as 
they  call  it,  I  found  it  to  exceed  a  thousand  francs,  and 
I  had  lost  too  much  money  the  night  before  to  think  of 

Raying  even  a  tenth  part  of  that  amount ;  I  therefore  told 
er  without  any  ceremony,  that  I  had  no  more  money. 
She  insisted— called  me  a  shabby  Englishman — and,  in 
short,  went  on  at  such  a  rate,  that  I  took  up  my  hat  and 
walked  out,  telling  her,  at  the  same  time,  that  I  should 
never  see  her  again.  She  very  politely  opened  the 
door  of  the  antichambre  for  me  with  her  own  hands,  and 
shut  it  with  violence  the  instant  I  reached  the  staircase." 
Delmaine  thought  of  the  breakfast  scene  which  had 
occurred  between  Adeline  and  himself  that  very  morn- 
ing,  and  he  shuddered  to  think  that  the  discovery  of 
the  memoire  might  not  have  been  purely  accidental. 

**  Yon  must  be  some  hundreds  minus,  through  Clc- 
mence,  if  I  have  understood  rightly,"  observed  Wide- 
wood  ;  "  but  do  you  know  it  is  said  that  De  Forsac 
makes  many  of  these  women  supply  him  with  sums 
obtained  firom  the  Englishmen  to  whom  he  introduces 
them  ?  By-the-bye,  do  you  see  that  young  girl  ?" 

Here  their  conversation  was  interrupted  by  the  ap» 
proach  of  Madame  Bourdcaux,  who  requested  one  of 
them  to  take  a  vacant  seat  at  an  ecarte  table,  where  e 
player  was  wanted!  Delmaine  had  unavoidably  heard 
the  whole  of  their  remarks  ;  and  when  he  caught  the 
last  unfinished  sentence,  his  heart  beat  with  violence.-^ 
"  What  young  girl  can  they  possibly  mean  ?"  he  asked 
himself,  and  he  dreaded  that  some  fearful  disclosure  was 
about  to  be  made.  Yet,  this  was  better  than  uncertainty, 
and  he,  hoped  that '  the  young  men  would  decline  the 
invitation,  and  renew  their  conversation ;  but,  much  Ut 
his  disappointment,  they  both  rose  and  joined  in  the 


>V^ 


(.^■■:fi.mi^<.,. 


10 


u 


£oart€. 


237 


ft 


ifiime.  He  euried  Madame  Bourdeaux  f^om  his  heart 
for  the  interruption,  and  moved  almost  mechanically 
towards  the  seat  occupied  by  Adeline.  As  he  passed 
the  table  where  De  Forsac  had  continued  seated  during 
the  evening,  he  saw  the  stranger  wrapped  in  a  large 
cashmere  shawl,  and  preparing  to  depart.  The  marquis 
also  had  his  hat  in  his  hand,  and  was  only  awaiting  the 
termination  of  the  game  then  playing,  to  accompany 
her. 

"  Do  you  go  to  Frascati's  to-night  ?"  he  inquired. 

Our  hero  had  only  the  instant  before  made  up  his 
mind  not  to  go  ;  but  the  eyes  of  the  stranger  were  at 
that  moment  fixed  upon  him  with  the  same  exciting  ex- 
pression ;  and  he  fancied  that  a  slight  motion  of  the  head 
indicated  a  desire  that  he  should. 

"  I  rather  think  I  shall,"  he  replied ;  and  he  looked  to 
observe  the  effect  produced  by  this  decision. 

The  stranger  smiled,  and  disclosing  a  set  of  teeth  of 
exquisite  beauty,  asked  De  Forsac  if  his  friend  would 
not  accompany  them. 

The  marquis  looked  displeased,  and  whispered  some 
observation,  in  a  low  tone,  to  her  ;  then  turning  to  Clif- 
ford, he  inquired  if  Adeline  was  with  him,  and  whether 
ghe  intended  to  accompany  him  ? 

Delmaine  fastened  his  eyes  keenly  on  the  countenance 
of  De  Forsac,  and  for  an  instant  changed  colour,  as  the 
conversation  of  the  two  Englishmen  occurred  to  him ; 
but  an  inquiring  movement  of  the  stranger  recalled  him 
to  himself.  He  said  that  Adeline  was  present,  but  he 
did*not  know  whether  she  intended  going  to  Frascati's 
or  not ;  he,  however,  believed  she  would. 

He  looked  again  at  the  stranger,  but  the  smile,  which 
so  recently  played  upon  her  lips,  had  given  way  to  an 
expression  of  dissappointment.  Folding  her  shawl 
closely  around  her  figure,  she  took  the  arm  of  De  For- 
sac, who  had  just  won  his  stake,  and  casting  a  final 
glance  at  our  hero,  perfectly  indicative  of  a  wish  that 
he  should  go  unaccompanied,  left  the  apartment. 

Conscious  of  the  wrong  he  was  half  meditating  to« 


(' 


;fl 


"':^'-'•w 


',?>Vf/T'<« 


238 


^.CARTI^. 


I  1. 


wards  Adeline,  Delmaine  approached  her  witli  a  feeling 
of  reierve,  which  was  not  a  little  heightened  by  the  re- 
collection of  the  dialogue  he  had  overheard,  and  which, 
in  spite  of  himself,  had  made  a  deep  impression  on  his 
mind.  She  W8(ii  sitting  pensively,  with  her  attention 
evidently  directed  towards  her  mother,  whose  counte- 
nance but  too  faithfully  betrayed  the  losses  she  was  still 
sustaining.        '  ^I'^V^iM^'-  •'-  i><-  y^iM^;\-l!'i:.r'  ri:'^&[f^r . 

"  Do  you  care  about  going  to  I^rascati's  to-night  ?'* 
he  inquired,  with  assumed  carelessness  of  manner,  yet 
secretly  trembling  to  hear  her  decision. 

"  Oh  no,"  she  exclaimed ;  "  I  have  but  little  inclina- 
tion to  be  even  here  to-night ;  and  I  sincerely  wish  that 
I  was  at  home  this  very  moment."     She  sighed. 

Clifibrd  was  touched  by  her  desponding  manner, 
and— must  we  add? — pleased  with  her  determination. 
"  What  is  the  matter,  Adeline  ?  why  are  you  so  sad  ?" 

"  I  am  hurt,  offended  with  mamma,"  she  murmured. 
"  You  must  think  it  so  strange  that  she  should  borrow 
money  from  you,  after  the  favour  you  conferred  upon 
her  this  morning.  Yet  do  not  blame  me,"  she  pursued, 
feelingly ;  "  I  said  all  I  could  to  dissuade  her  from  it, 
but  she  would  not  listen  to  reason.  She  quarrelled  with 
me,  because  I  refused  to  ask  you;  but  for  worlds  1 
could  not  have  done  so." 

The  suspicions  which  had  arisen  in  the  generous  mmd 
of  our  hero,  were  at  once  lulled  by  this  artless  confes- 
sion, and  he  sought  to  remove  every  unpleasant  feeling 
from  her  mind. 

"  A  mere  bagatelle,"  he  remarked.  "  Dearest  Ade- 
line, do  not  distress  yourself  about  this  circumstance. 
I  shall  be  repaid  in  sufficient  time." 

*'  Hitat"  she  replied  mournfully,  while  a  tear  stood 
in  her  eye  j  "  ne  comptez  pas  Id-dessus." 

"  By  Heavens,  so  I  thought,"  he  muttered  between 
his  teeth.  "  Well,  no  matter,"  he  resumed,  taking  her 
hand,  and  smiling ;  '<  I  shall  place  it  all  to  your  ac- 
count." 

^'  Grand  Dieu  /"  screamed  Adeline,  starting  from 


( .  ■' 


]6cart£. 


239 


Ming 

re- 

lich, 

his 

itioi) 

inte- 

still 

Iht?" 
i>yet 

flina- 
that 


her  seat,  and  rushing  forward  to  the  card-table,  whete 
her  mother  was  playing.  Clifford  turned,  and  in  the 
next  instant  beheld  her  tearing  off  Madame  Dorjeville's 
toque,  which  was  in  a  flame,  and  already  threatened  de- 
struction to  the  rest  of  her  dress.  The  women  on  either 
side  had  retreated  from  the  danger,  and  holding  up  their 
hands  in  silent  horror,  without  dreaming  of  ofiering  the 
slightest  assistance,  were  cKrecting  her  in  what  manner 
to  proceed.  Delmaine  at  once  saw  that  the  flame  was 
only  to  be  extinguished  by  suffocation,  and  snatching 
up  a  rich  shawl  which  lay  upon  the  ottoman  next  him, 
he  threw  it  over  her  head,  pressing  it  round  her  neck, 
so  as  to  exclude  the  air  altogether.       .:,-«'^  ^  * ^^^-^  K'< 

"  fetouffe"  faintly  issued  from  beneath  the  folds, 
and  in  the  next  instant  Madame  Dorjeville  fell  back  in 
his  arms,  and  fainted. 

"  Mon  schallf  man  schall,  Oh  DieUf  mon  schall  de 
cachemireP^  screamed  a  female  .from  the  group,  who 
now,  for  the  first  time,  identified  her  property  in  the 
singular  extinguisher  thus  employed.  "  Monsieur,  vous 
avez  ahime  mon  schall." 

The  whole  of  the  party  engaged  at  the  table,  where 
the  accident  occurred,  were  in  a  state  of  the  utmost  con*- 
fusion.  The  table  had  been  overturned  at  the  moment 
Madame  Dorjeville  fainted,  and  cards,  bougies,  and 
money,  lay  scattered  in  every  direction.  All  were  now 
scrambling  for  their  stakes,  and  literally  knocking  their 
heads  together  in  their  eagerness  to  secure  them.  The 
players  at  the  other  tables,  however,  continued  their 
game,  as  if  nothing  had  happened.  Indeed  this  was  not 
surprising,  for  it  could  scarcely  be  expected  that  the 
conflagration  of  Paris  itself,  much  less  that  of  a  wo- 
man's head-dress,  should  distract  a  regular  set  of  play- 
ers and  betters  at  ecarte. 

At  length  cards,  lights,  and  money  were  restored  to 
their  several  places,  and  when  the  confusion  had  some- 
what abated,  they  began  to  inquire  of  each  other  how 
the  accident  had  occurred. 

"  Ah,"  cried  an  old  lady,  who  found  herself  five 


,NMV-.tJa'.S9 


^■.#:- 


i^- 


240 


.) 


francs  minus,  at  the  end  of  the  scramble  for  the  stakes, 
^'  that  Madajne  Dorjeville  is  so  impetuous — elle  mmtre 
toujaurs  tant  (Thumeur  lorsqu^elle  perd*  When  she  lost 
the  game,  she  rose  so  impatiently,  that  she  overturned 
her  chair,  and  while  stooping  to  pick  it  up,  her  head- 
dress caught  in  the  flame  of  the  bougie.  Apropos," 
she  added,  "  I  have  lost  five  francs  by  this  gaucherie. 
Who  has  picked  up  five  francs  too  much  ?" 

No  one,  of  course,  answered  in  the  afiirmative,  and 
the  old  lady  continued  to  mutter  observations  to  herself 
about  the  aptness  of  some  people  to  lose  their  temper  at 
play,  and  the  liability  of  others  to  take  up  more  money 
than  they  actually  had.a  right  to,  until  the  game  was  re- 
sumed. 

Madame  Dorjeville  had,  in  the  mean  time,  regained 
her  senses,  and  having  discovered  that  she  had  sustained 
no  other  injury  than  the  loss  of  her  toque,  which  was 
replaced  by  a  tuiban  from  the  wardrobe  of  Madame 
Bourdeaux,  she  expi'essed  her  determination  to  renew 
the  game.  It  was  in  vain  that  Adeline  expostulated,  and 
endeavoured  to  persuade  her  to  retire.  Her  mother  was 
deaf  to  all  she  had  to  say;  and  when,  in  the  next  instant, 
she  saw  Delmaine  comply  with  another  demand  on  his 
purse,  she  coloured  highly  with  shame  and  vexation. 
Her  hands  had  been  slightly  burnt,  in  the  act  of  assist- 
ing her  mother,  and  this  she  now  made  a  pretext  for  re- 
tiring. Approaching  Clifford,  therefore,  with  burning 
cheeks  and  downcast  eyes,  she  inquired  if  he  was  ready 
to  accompany  her.  He  coolly  replied  that  he  was,  and 
the  indifference  of  his  manner  again  fell  like  an  ice-chill 
on  her  heart ;  they  descended  to  the  court,  and  proceed- 
ed to  the  Rue-de  la  Chaussee  d'Antin  in  silence;  but  no 
sooner  had  they  reached  her  apartments,  than  Adeline 
threw  her  head  on  his  bosom,  and  sobbed  violently. 
The  heart  of  Delmaine  was  not  proof  against  this  ex- 
pression of  her  grief;  he  raised  her  up,  and  tenderly  in- 
quired the  cause. 

"  Oh,"  she  cried,  "  I  am  truly  wretched.  You  will 
despise,  you  will  hate  me ;  the  conduct  of  my  mother 


bas  evidei 

vou  cond< 

<«ifyou  fc 

you  woul 

whatever 

and  disln 

this  day, 

was  impc 

happy,  ^ 

yet  feel, 

which  si 

tny  hear 

I  first  b< 

"I  w 

ford,  as 

feelings 

finished 

Believe 

should , 

these  c 

to  act 

you  a<3 

my  fin 

which 

table. 

pute 

influe 

t( 

/Vdeli 

ner; 

thers 

ters 

the  a 

tion. 

strai 

proi 

nev« 

half 


.   *,' 


'' ,  J ' 


^CARTE. 


24t 


and 
frself 
sr  at 
mey 
IS  re- 


has  evidently  disgusted  you  this  evening,  and  I  see  that 
you  condemn  me  equally  with  her.  But,"  she  pursued, 
**  if  you  knew  how  much  I  have  been  hurt  and  wounded, 
you  would  pity  me.  I  am  an  unhappy  girl  indeed ;  but 
whatever  may  be  my  faults,  my  love  for  you  is  sincere 
and  disinterested.  Could  I  have  foreseen  the  events  of 
this  day,  I  should  have  guarded  against  them ;  but  that 
was  impossible.  Alas!  I  am  wretched,  sick,  and  un- 
happy, for  I  am  apprehensive  of  losing  your  affection — 
yet  feel,"  she  added,  with  energy,  and  seizing  his  hand, 
which  she  placed  on  her  throbbing  bosom — "  feel  how 
my  heart  beats,  how  it  has  continued  to  beat  ever  since 
I  first  beheld  you." 

"  I  will  not  go  to  Frascati's  to-night,"  thought  Clif- 
ford, as  he  listened  to  the  unrestrained  avowal  of  her 
feelings.  "  Dear  Adeline,"  he  exclaimed,  when  she  had 
finished  her  1p«  passionate  appeal,  *'  compose  yourself. 
Believe  me,  y  .  -  e  rs  are  perfectly  groundless;  neither 
should  you  ii  ?» j  =  u  that  I  attach  any  importance  to 
these  circumstances.  Your  mother  certainly  does  seem 
to  act  very  imprudently,  and  I  candidly  confess  that,  as 
you  admit  there  is  little  probability  of  my  being  repaid, 
my  finances  will  not  bear  any  more  of  these  heavy  drafts, 
which  are  only  required  to  be  squandered  at  the  ecarte 
table.  But  how  can  I  be  so  unjust,  my  love,  as  to  im- 
pute blame  to  you,  who  certainly  seem  to  have  but  little 
influence  over  your  mother  f" 

"  I  feel  all  the  generosity  of  your  remark,"  replied 
Adeline,,  greatly  soothed  by  the  kindness  of  his  man- 
ner; "  but,  alas !  it  is  but  too  much  the  custom  for  mo- 
thers to  profit  by  the  attachments  formed  by  their  daugh- 
ters ;  nay,  it  is  often  a  stipulation  that  they  shall  share 
the  advantages  resulting  irom  liaisons  of  this  descrip" 
tion.  Yet,  whatever,  my  mother  may  do— however 
strange  and  interested  her  conduct  may  appear — oh, 
promise  that  you  will  never  condemn  me — ^that  you  will 
never  deem  me  capable  of  lending  myself  to  any  thing 
half  so  disreputable—- say  that  you  will  believe  that  you, 

VOL.  I.  jSlI 


.(', 


! 


242 


iCAKTt. 


a" 


11 


And 


and  you  only,  are  the  real  t>bject  of  my  affection.' 
again  she  buried  her  face  in  his  bosom. 

"  This  is  no  Clemence,"  thought  our  hero  ;  "  be  the 
unworthy  suspicion  which  I  entertained,  then,  for  ever 
crushed.  Dear,  dear  Adeline,"  he  replied,  clasping 
her  passionately  to  his  breast,  "  I  will  believe  any  thing 
that  you  desire.  Nay,  why  should  I  doubt  what  you 
assert  f  The  very  circumstance  of  your  entering  into 
this  explanation  is  sufficient,  and,  from  this  moment,  I 
love  you  more  tenderly  than  ever." 

"  Oh !  of  what  a  weight  have  you  not  relieved  me !" 
she  returned,  radsing  her  face,  and  smiling  through  her 
tears.     "  How  shall  I  study  to  deserve  your  affection  f" 
"  By  loving  me  with  passion— deep,  fervent,  burning 
passion,"  said  Delmaine,  as  he  caught  her  wildly  to  his 
heart,  and  imprinted  his  lips  on  hers. 
~    From  this  moment  the  attachment  of  our  hero  for 
Adeline  visibly  increased.     She  had  cast  the  spell  of 
her  enchantments  around  him,  until,  gradually  with- 
dra^ving  himself  from  the  society  of  his  friends,  he  be- 
came her  constant  companion  in  the  circles  wherein  they 
had  first  met,  and  she  was  everywhere  known,  and 
tacitly  acknowledged,  as  his  mistress.     Had  she  studied 
her  own  inclinations,  she  would  have  avoided  these  pub- 
lic haunts  as  much  as  possible ;  but  Delmaine  himself 
found  them  necessary  to  his  happiness,  for  they  had  a 
powerful  tendency  to  distract  his  mind  from  reflections 
which,'  despite  even  of  the  apparent  affection  and  de- 
vQtedness  of  Adeline,  but  too  frequently  assailed  him. 
They  were  constandy  to  be  seen  in  the  public  prome- 
nades by  day,  and  at  night  they  repaired  together  to  the 
different  sakmSi  where  our  hero  soon  unhappily  acquired 
a  love  Cor  play,  which  was  fast  leading  him  to  ruin.     In 
vain  did  Adeline  attempt  to  dissuade  him  from  entering 
so  deeply  into  this  destructive  habit.    What  he  had  at 
first  essayed  with  a  view  to  distraction,  now  became  a 
psssion^and,  among  the  firgt  at  the  eearte  table  at  night, 
and  the  last  in  the  m<Htiing,  was  to  be  seen  the  infatuated 
Delmune,  who,  prior  to  his  introduction  to  these  haunts. 


had  never 
andforlin 
duced  by 
rendered! 
quently  < 
every  ins 
no  means 
a  quarre 
flection, 
up  befor 
regret ; 
tisfied  i\ 
most  ab 
by  the 
the  par 
times,  < 
to  soot 
versity 
of  ad 
pressi(i 
lently 
their  V 
a  cha 
his  pi 
her  n 
she  V 
liisc 
T 
dred 
aye 
thei 
age 
eml 
aff< 

SOI 

tb< 
mi 
n< 


f-.  \ 


.fJv  ■  .^.v*  ■ 


iCART^. 


243 


,„d  never  been  known  to  touch  »««  WJment,  pro- 
^nil  for  limited  stakes.     1  nc  rev  .j,  ^f^ne, 

do ced  by  a  constant  r^'T„d  «Sdisc«ssions  fte- 
t"e  Jhis  'e»PC',""'*^^rnerrembroil  him  at 
aueotly  ensued,  w'-«ch  .*»f  ^  !,„e  of  whom  were  by 
2"«yLtant,  with  "''/"''"^^tnftrcredit  "poo  him  by 
no  means  of  a/c?"'?"""  *?„ Ts  moments  of  cooler  re- 
a  quarrel,  and  «'*  "'f^Jhed  to  see  his  name  mixed 
flection,  he  would  have  btahed        ^  .^  ^^  a 

„p  before  the  public     **""„,  i,;^  diaracter  to  be  sa- 

tisfied  that  he  """'^  "r^,"°„ere  only  to  be  prevented 
most  alarming  con^^'^'^h^  warmth  of  language  of 
by  the  bounds  »PP'''*  .^..'^nssions  took  place.  Some-        . 
tl  parties  with  whom  his  **«"^;       a  „ear,  and  sought 
times,  on  these  occasions,  s"®  ""»     ^     ^  strange  per- 
rS-the  him.into  compo-ej^^S^^y  „-,e  sofily  pu, 
versity  of  feeling,  I'f  J™*^^,  and,  piqued  at  the  .m- 
of  a  Sesire  to  ^'"'.'""'•"'"'"'f  course,  only  more  vio^  . 
pression,  W\P»»'rL"Sly  desisted.    Nay,  even  in 
lently  aroused,  and  *«  ™»^^yi„,  frequently  experienced 
their  hours  of  retirement,  Adeline      h  ^„„  ,„ 

a  Change  in  his  ">-°SnUhed  attachment,  whenever 
his  professions  «[  ""^^^atompl^nts  reached  his  ems 
t.  :^f  ;Sy  Srd  .rpardeS,  and  find  excuses  fo. 

"'Th"et::;me  of  ^fTT^^^^^o^^^' 
dred  a  year,  three  "f  «^:'*  j^aM  He  had  lost  his  mo- 
a  younger  brother  «f  S'' Ed^fjeft  wlien  eight  years  of 
ther  in  early  infancy,  «V*  '™aeT«hen  Major  Delmaine 
age,  under  the  care  of '.'«  »f i^'  .„  ,4„ice.  The 
embarked  with  "'Srdbore  tohis'brother  whowas 
affection  which  Sir  pdwara  oo'  ^  ^^^^^  after 

some  years,  his  J™'"'- .T'.UtSng  feet  of  the  gaUant 
trbattleofCorunna,thed«tressing  ^^^ 

major's  fall  in  that  "'""^f^.Smed  with  grief. 

"oinced  to  him^h.^  ^-^^^'^^Jfto  „at«re  were,  how- 
.      The  warm  and  simple  attecuoiis 


1    .,».*»  i>.fc 


*    - '-  --■  -j-^^if-^fc 


*v- 


-/^. 


244 


^cart£. 


ever,  eventually  transfeiTcd  to  his  nephew.  Sir  Edwanl 
was  possessed  of  one  of  the  best  hearts  that  ever  tenant-^ 
ed  a  human  breast,  and  although  his  own  education  had 
been  neglected  for  the  more  alluring  and  exciting  plea- 
sures of  the  chase,  of  which  he  had  ever  been  passionate- 
ly fond,  he  was  resolved  that  no  pains  should  be  spared 
on  that  of  his  favourite  nephew.  > 

Nor  was  Clifford  the  only  object  of  his  solicitude. 
Harry  Wilmot,  the  unfortunate  youth  alluded  to  by 
O' Sullivan,  in  a  form'er  part  of  our  story,  was  also  an 
orphan  intrusted  to  his  guardianship  by  his  dying  mo- 
ther, a  first  cousin  of  his  own.  As  they  were  nearly  of 
the  same  age.  Sir  Edward  determined  that  the  young 
men  should  enter  upon  their  studies  together.  Accord- 
ingly, after  having  gone  through  a  preparatory  course 
of  education,  the  cousins  were  finally  sent  to  Cambridge, 
where  Clifford  particularly  distinguished  himself  by  his 
close  application  and  facility  of  acquirement.  To  Wil- 
mot, however,  who  was  of  a  peculiarly  wild  and  thought- 
less character,  study  was  a  bore,  and  a  college  life  a 
restraint  j  and  while  the  vacations  of  our  hero  were  al- 
most invariably  passed  with  his  uncle,  either  in  town,orat 

his  seat  in shire,  those  of  Wilmot  were  spent 

among  a  set  of  dissipated  young  men,  whose  sole  competi- 
tion seemed  to  be  who  should  throw  away  the  most  money 
in  the  shortest  time.  On  attaining  his  twenty-first  year, 
lie  declared  college,  its  pursuits,  and  even  his  talented 
cousin,  so  many  nuisances,  and  hastening  to  his  uncle,  re- 
ceived from  him  tlie  small  fortune  which  had  been  in/ 
trusted  to  his  care.  Sir  Edward  tried  remonstrance, 
but  in  vain,  and  when  at  length  Wihnot,  warmed  by  op- 
position to  his  plans,  inquired  if  he  was  not  of  an  age  to 
judge  for  himself,  tlie  baronet  felt  all  the  ingratitude  of 
iiis  conduct,  and  yielding  up  his  deposit,  bade  him  go  to 
the  devil  his  own  way. 

This  was  what  Wilmot  desired,  for  though  he  was  not 
really  deficient  in  regard  for  his  uncle,  his  own  plea- 
sures weighed  too  heavily  in  the  opposite  scale,  and  he" 
took  him  at  his  word.     He  immediately  set  off  for  tho 


■f  7 


ir     '■ 


:>■■ 


ECARTE. 


245 


Jnant- 

Inhad 

jplea- 

fnate- 

)ared 


continent,  and  Clifibrd  had  only  left  college  a  yesir  when 
the  account  of  his  cousin's  death,  in  a  duel  in  Paris, 
reached  Sir  Edward.  The  heart  of  the  good  old  baro- 
net  was  too  aftectionate,  his  nature  too  kind,  not  to  mourn 
over  the  untimely  fate  of  the  inconsiderate  Wilmot,  with 
whom  he  now  bitterly  repented  having  parted  in  anger : 
as  there  was  notliing,  however,  with  which,  on  a  review 
of  his  conduct,  he  could  reproach  himself,  he  was  even- 
tually consoled  by  that  reflection.  On  Cliflford  no  such 
violent  emotion  was  produced.  He  regretted  his  cousin, 
more  as  one  with  whom  he  had  been  brought  up  from 
his  earliest  years,  than  as  a  dear  and  lamented  friend^ 
for  Wilmot  had  ever  evinced  a  repugnance  to  intimacy, 
which  the  naturally  proud  spirit  of  our  hero  prevent- 
ed any  attempt  on  his  part  to  surmount ;  and  to  thig 
want  of  cordiality  between  the  young  men,  must  be  at- 
tributed the  comparatively  trifling  interest  evinced  by 
Delmaine  in  his  conversation  with  O'Sullivan. 

In  consequence  of  this  event,  Delmaine  became  the 
sole  surviving  relative  of  the  baronet,  whose  afiection 
was,  if  possible,  increased  by  the  circumstance  of  his  be- 
ing the  exclusive  obje^st  on  which  his  feelings  and  inte- 
rests reposed.  He  was  the  last  scion  of  an  ancient  and 
])roud  family,  and  Sir  Edward  could  not  endure  the 
idea  of  the  name  and  title  becoming  extinct.  It  was, 
therefore,  his  fondest  wish  to  see  his  nephew  married  to 
some  woman  of  family,  through  whom  the  name  might  bf 
transmitted  to  posterity,  for  although  possessed  of  the 
manners  and  indulging  in  the  pursuits  of  a  mere  counry 
gentleman,  Sir  Edward  was  highly  aristocratic— a  feel- 
ing which  had  led  him  more  than  once  secretly  to  triumph 
in  the  proud  and  independent  spirit  of  his  nephew.  Tlie 
property  attached  to  the  title  was  in  itself  but  small  f 
but  the  baronet  had  a  considerable  sum  vested  in  the 
funds  and  other  public  securities,  half  of  which  he  in- 
tended giving  him  on  the  day  of  his  marriage :  the  re- 
mainder Delmaine  was  to  have  at  his  death.  His  disap- 
{>ointment  had  been  extreme  on  finding  that,  among  the 
numerous  women,  celebrated  either  for  their  beauty, 

#21 


-■•^A 


246 


tCAKT^. 


their  family,  or  their  accomplishments,  whom  he  every 
where  met  on  his  return  from  college,  he  had  not  dis- 
ting^shed  one  by  any  particular  mark  of  favour  ;  yet 
as  this  was  a  subject  to  which  he  was  resolved  not  to  ad- 
vert, from  a  disinclination  to  bias  or  influence  his  ne- 
phew in  a  choice,  which,  though  a  bachelor  himself,  he 
well  knew  to  be  the  most  important  step  in  life,  he  sel- 
dom indulged  in  the  expression  of  any  particular  anxiety 
to  see  his  views  accomplished. 

Such  was  the  state  of  things  when  they  embarked  for 
the  continent,  when  Sir  Edward  increased  the  income 
of  his  nephew,  from  three  hundred  a  year,  which  he 
inherited  from  his  father,  to  five  hundred — a  sum  which 
he  conceived  to  be  quite  sufficient  for  the  expenses  and 
rational  amusement  of  a  young  man  of  four  ami  twenty. 
We  are  already  aware  of  the  hope  he  entertainnd  of  see- 
ing Clifford  united  40iUhe  daughter  of  his  early  and 
estimable  friend — -a  hope  which,  since  his  arrival  in 
Paris,  had  almost  been  nursed  into  conviction ;  we  have 
also  seen  how  that  hope  was  disappointed. 

It  may  readily  be  supposed,  that,  indulging  so  con- 
stantly in  play  and  other  extravagant  pursuits,  Clifford 
was  not  long  in  finding  his  income  inadequate  to  his 
necessities  ;  and  that  as  he  knew  not  in  what  manner  to 
obtain  supplies,  he  was  not  unfrequently  involved  in 
embarrassments,  from  which  he  found  it  difficult  to  ex- 
tricate himself.  In  order,  therefore  to  reduce  his 
expenses,  he  gave  up  his  apartments  in  the  Hotel  des 
Princes,  merely  reserving  one  room  for  his  servant,  and 
took  up  his  abode  altogether  with  Adeline.  But  even 
the  retrenchments  effected  by  this  measure  were  insuffi- 
cient :  for  so  infatuated  had  he  become  with  play,  so 
necessary  did  he  find  it  as  a  resource,  that  his  time  was 
now  divided  between  the  ecarte,  and  the  more  destruc- 
tive and  absorbing  temptations  of  the  rouge  et  nair  and 
roulette  tables.  Having,  on  one  occasion,  returned 
home,  after  an  unusual  run  of  ill  luck,  he  endeavoured 
in  vain  to  devise  some  plan  by  which  his  finances  might 
be  recruited.    As  he  sat  ruminating,  with  his  head  lean- 


ing  on 
a  sounc 
Adeliw 
ter,  aM< 
"It 

him; 

much 
diatelj 
Del 
How 
pelled 

sum* 

"J 

papei 

ofref 

A< 

her  s 

votn 

pres 
mail 

the 

i( 

cou 

full 

ing 

of 

na 

en 

ki 

b 

f< 

c 

c 

1 

\ 


•i^->: 


-f 


"^■^/^^i^^'Si^'ill''  '*^' 


iSCART^' 


247 


diately."  ...  ...  ^^s  for  two  hundred  francs. 

Delmaine  opened  it  y^/Hl^^  j^ea  of  being  corn- 
How  humUiated  did  h^^^^^^^  paltry  a 
pelled  to  say,  that  he  couia 

sum.  ,  „^, ,,'  he  siffhed,  returning  her  the 

u  Je  n^ai  plv^,  "'teTo  'mg  into^he  same  painful  train 
paper,  and  agam  relapsmg  m 
of  reflection.  anti-chambre,  and  he  heard 

the  following  day.  ^^  j^j^  ^t  once,  th'^t  1 

"Why,  my  love,  did  you  nmi^   he  observed,  mourn- 

could  not  pay  it  for  some^f^^u  hayehim  here  pester- 
fully,  on  her  return.  ^ ^^^^j^^^^'^,  I  have  n«  ifteans 
ing'us  to-morrow  and  H^^^^^^  ^^  ,,,„  as  you  have 
of  rausing  even  this  trinuig  ^ 

'         named."  •  ^Plmaine,"    cried  AdeUne,  with  , 

k  ;  »'  Delmaine,  dear  1^^^^'      „  ^is  bosom,  "  you 

'         emotion,  and  tbrow-g  ^em^^^^^^  ^^^^  ted 

know  not  the  pam  I  f^el,  at  seen  gj^  .^  ^^^  ^^^^^ 

ty  these  miserable  wretches  ^Al^^^  ,,  ,, 


# 


rthe^  miserable  -«"="«•  *^^- ^^Ved  to  these 
Z  me,  you  would  »f  "^^H.  *erefore,  be  seUid. 
cruel  embarrassments ,  can  J  ^  .„hich  I  have 
enough  not  to  assist  y»"  '",  jh^e  no  money,  it  is 
beenfostrumental  m  creatmg^  Ihav^^^^,^ia,„„sand 
true,  b-tlhave  jewels  to  th^amo  , 

Stt:r.nvS--ToJ:..appy."  ^^^^- 


,  *;, : 


S|?5. 


,.,    "'■••^•Wmr'-'-' 


tf^4i«■*,!w!isfc•"••*,•J^^■•-^;';^'''"'^■'.■''''""■♦^•'■:; 


.;'    f 


.'4  * 


248 


^    tCAKTt. 


"  Dear,  generous  girl,"  exclaimed  Delmaine,  clasp-% 
ing  her  to  his  heart,  "  this,  indeed,  is  kind  ;  but  I  can- 
not think  of  making  you  the  victim  of  my  follies.  Let 
the  fellow  wait  until  it  suits  my  convenience." 

*'  That  he  certainly  will  not,"  replied  Adeline,  "  for 
he  threatened  to  summon  you  before  the  Juge  de  f^aix, 
and  you  have  yet  to  learn  how  apt  people  of  that  de- 
scription are  to  decide  every  thing  against  a  foreigner. 
But  this  is  not  all.  Several  other  bills  have  been  sent, 
of  which  you  know  nothing,  since  I  would  not  give  you 
pain  by  acquainting  3'ou  with  an  evil  that  you  could  not 
remedy.  I  know  not  how  it  is,  but  they  seem  to  be 
aware  of  your  embarrassments,  and  are  all  equally  press- 
ing for  money.  Promise  me,"  she  pursued,  in  a  tone 
of  persuasion,  "  that  you  will  make  use  of  my  jewels 
— ^you  know  you  can  return  them  to  me  when  you  get 
over  your  difficulties ;  and  these,  I  am  sure,"  she  added, 
"  would  not  be  of  long  continuance,  were  you  but  to 
relinquish  play." 

"  I  will  accept  them,  Adeline,  if  necessary,  for  I  fully 
understand  and  appreciate  your  feeling  in  oflering  them ; 
but  the  fact  is,  it  now  occurs  to  me,  that  De  Forsac 
owes  me  a  sum  of  money  more  than  sufficient  to  defray 
these  petty  demands.  I  shall  go  to  him  immediately 
for  it.  This,  at  least,  will  do  away  the  necessity  for 
thenf  fur  the  present." 

Adeline  raised  herself  from  his  shoulder — gazed  ear- 
nestly at  him,  and  shook  her  head.  "  Ne  comptez  pas 
Iti-dcsms,^^  she  murmured.  <    -s...-    * 

*' And  why  not?"  demanded  Cliffijrd,  impetuously, 
as,  with  the  rapidity  of  lightning,  the  recollection  of 
the  conversation  between  the  two  Englishmen  flashed 
across  his  mind ;  but  when  he  remarked  the  deep  expres- 
sion of  interest  on  her  countenance,  and  recalled  the 
offer  of  sacrifice  which  she  bad  just  made,  the  unworthy 


see, 


suspicion  was  again  dispelled.     '<  We  shall 

added,  after  a  pause,  and  rising  to  depart. 

'  >'**  You  will  dhre  with  me  ?"    said  Adeline,  inqti 

nnglv.  -W/f^v^K 


he 


~.3^^yi-ia 


.'.t"l-'. 


t«  del 

seen  De 

«  Ai 

alone?" 

a  look 

shrunk 

his. 
4.  \V 

forth  o 

He 

They 

inquir< 

riod. 

theR 

whisp 

"V 

with  s 

"Th 

red,  > 

form* 

D< 

"Ic 

layin 

tion 
and 

on 

as  < 
liev 
in! 
ho^ 
vei 
the 


m 


^l 


he 
th 
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<<  Certainly/*  replied  Delmaine,  **  as  lOon  ti  1  have 
seen  De  Forsac  I  shall  return." 

''  And  shall  we  once  again  enjoy  an  evening 
alone  f"  she  rejoined.  Delmaine  glanced  at  her  witTi 
a  look  of  fire.  Her  cheek  burned,  and  her  blue  eyeit 
shrunk  beneath  their  long  lashes,  as  they  encountered 
his. 

"  We  shall !"  he  added  passionately,  and  then  nallied 
forth  on  his  mission. 

He  found  De  Forsac  dressing  for  a  dinner  party. 
They  had  not  met  for  some  days,  and  the  marquii  now 
inquired  what  he  had  done  with  himself  during  that  pe- 
riod. "  By-the-bye,'?  he  added,  "  I  never  nee  you  at 
the  Rue  de  la  Pnix,  at  present.  Something  hai  been 
whispered  of  a  rupture.     Is  this  the  case  P" 

"  Why,  I  believe  that  I  am  not  on  the  belt  of  term« 
with  any  of  the  party,"  returned  Cliflbrd,  carelessly. 
"  The  fact  is,  that  certain  circumstance!  have  occur- 
red, which  prevent  my  appearing  there  quite  so  ollten  tk» 
formerly." 

De  Forsac  well  knew  what  these  circumstances  were. 
"  I  dined  with  your  friends  yesterday,"  he  observed, 
laying  particular  emphasis  on  the  word  **  friends." 
"  Your  name  was  mentioned  in  the  course  of  conversa- 
tion ;  but,  I  thought,  with  the  most  perfect  indiflerencc ; 
and  as  I  really  felt  pained  on  your  account,  I  inquired 
of  Miss  Stanley,  who  sat  next  to  me,  whether  you  were 
as  constant  a  visiter  as  ever.  She  said,  *  that  she  be- 
lieved you  had  not  been  there  for  some  time,  but  that, 
in  fact,  she  could  not  give  herself  the  trouble  to  recollect 
how  long.'  Do  you  know,  I  thought  the  observation 
very  unkind  intone,  for  whom  it  is  so  generally  known 
that  you  risked  your  life." 

Clifford  thought  so  too  :  for,  although  satisfied  that 
he  had  no  right  to  complain,  he  felt  not  a  little  piqued  at 
this  communication.  "  Vaus  mvez  que  ki  domeg  tout 
souvent  caprideuses"  he  remarked. 

This  was  uttered  with  apparent  levity  and  indifTe- 
rence ;  but  De  Forsac  clearlv  saw  that  the  sting  had 
taken  effect.    "Apropos!"  he  asked,  ai  he  put  tht^ 


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last  touch  to  the  arrangement  of  his  cravat,  **  comment 
voni  let  amowi  et  le  jeu  9  La  Fortune  wui  favorite' 
l-eUe?" 

"  Diablement  malT  said  Cliffbrd;  "  and,  by  thu 
way,  this  reminds  me  of  the  object  of  my  visit.  I  ahi 
literally  done  vk^p—enfonce — and  am  come  to  beg  «om<' 
money  of  you.  Can  you  spare  me  the  amount  of  what 
I  lent  you  some  time  ago.'*" 

''  My  dear  fellow,  what  you  ask  is  quite  impossible 
just  at  this  moment,"  returned  the  marquis,  faintly  co- 
louring. "  I  am  quite  out  of  cash,  and  had  even  thoughl 
of  borrowing  from  you  myself."  >: 

**  But,"  said  Delmaine,  moving  towards  a  welNHlled 
purse,  which,  most  unfortunately  for  the  veracity  of  the 
Frenchman,  lay  on  the  dressing  table,  *'  you  can  at 
least  spare  me  a  part  of  the  contents  of  this."  V 

De  Forsac   took   up    the   purse  in  evident  alarm. 

"  This  money  is  not  mine,"  he  said ;  "  but  if  twenty 
Louig  will  be  sufficient  for  you,  I  can  take  it  upon 
myself  to  lend  them  to  you." 

*'  Lend  them !"  repeated  Clifibrd,  involuntarily,  and 
emphatically — but,  checking  his  feelings,  **  twenty 
Louis  will  do  for  the  present,"  he  observed.  One  end 
of  the  purse  was  filled  with  gold,  the  other  with  notei. 
De  Forsac  carefully  counted  out  twenty  pieces.  v. ' 

"  I  wish  I  could  fail  in  with  some  rich  old  nione}' 
lender,  who  would  take  a  bill  at  six  mounths,  at  even 
fifty  per  cent.,"  sighed  our  hero,  as  he  consigned  the 
gold  to  his  own  empty  purse.  , 

"  Do  you  really  wish  to  raise  money  on  these  terms  ?" 
eagerly  inquired  De  Forsac.  "  If  so,  I  dare  say  I  can 
contrive  to  procure  you  a  supply." 

"  Wish  it !  of  course  I  do.  I  have  no  money  whatever, 
and  should  be  glad  to  procure  some  on  any  terms.  Do  you 
know  any  one  who  would  be  willing  to  advance  me  any .'"' 

"  I  think,"  said  De  *Forsac,  "  1  know  a  person  who 
may.  I  formerly  had  transactions  with  him  to  a  large 
amount,  and  I  have  no  doubt  that,  in  consideration  qi' 
our  long  acquaintance,  he  will  not  object  to  accommoo 
dale  a  friend  of  mine."         ;j.v<*!,  *\>  ^  i         iiWAiu  <'"-/''''» 


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"  Then  lee  him  by  all  meang,  if  possible.  Can  tlie 
nfiViir  be  terminated  to-morrow  f" 

*'  I  dare  lay  it  can,"  said  De  Forsac.  **  What  amount 
will  you  require  ?" 

"Twenty  thousand  francs,  at  least,"  replied  Del- 
maine. 

**  Twenty  thousand  francs  will  be  a  large  sum  for  him ; 
but  I  shall  do  what  I  can.  You  agree  then  to  give 
(Uly  per  cent.  ?  That  you  know  will  make  your  billn 
tnirty  thousand." 

**  I  both  know  and  agree  to  it,"  rejoined  our  hero, 
"  provided  of  course  the  money  cannot  be  had  on  more 
moderate  terms  ;  but  you  will,  I  am  sure,  make  the  best 
bargain  you  can." 

"*  "  You  may  rely  upon  it,  I  shall  make  the  best  bar* 
gain  I  can,"  observed  De  Forsac,  emphatically,  and 
smiling  to  himself  in  the  mirror,  in  wliich  he  was  ad- 
justing a  superb  diamond  pin. 

"  You  seem  to  be  amused.  Marquis,"  said  Delmaine, 
who  had  remarked  this  singular  expression  both  of  tone 
iind  countenance. 

*'  I  was  merely  thinking  how  surprised  the  old  fellow 
will  be  to  see  me  once  more,"  returned  De  Forsac, 
colouring  at  the  detection.^  ,-V    ,>v 

-:  '  Well,  then,  at  what  hour  shall  we  meet  to-morrow, 
and  where?" 

'*  Say  at  your  own  hotel ;  you  are  still  in  the  Rue 
de  Richelieu,  are  you  not  ?" 

"     "  No,  I   am  with  Adeline  Dorjeville,  at  present," 
f^taid  Clifford,  somewhat  confusedly ;  <'  we  occupy  i!i€ " 
same  apartments." 

"  An!  dejd  si  avance  .'-—^'e  vous  en  fais  mon  compli- 
ment"  drawled  forth  De  Forsac,  with  a  half-st^ppressed 
iineer.  '*Do  you  recollect,"  he  pursued  Vu  English, 
"  what  difficulty  I  had  in  persuading  you  to  meet  her 
at  AstelU's  f  You  ought  to  be  very  much  obliged  to 
me,  indeed ;"  and  never  was  the  feeling  of  hate  more 
predominant  in  his  bosom,  than  at  that  moment.  When 
he  turned  away  from  the  glass,  he  was  pale.  ^ 

*'  Endeavour  then  to  be  in  the  Rue  de  la  Chaussee 

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d'Antin  to-morrow,  at  three  o*ciock  precisely,"  lie  ob« 
served ;  "  I  shall  lee  the  man  early  in  the  morning,  and 
when  I  have  arranged  every  thing  with  him,  we  shall 
proceed  together  to  your  hotel." 

Thii  pomt  being  settled,  Clifford  took  his  leave.  The 
original  impression  excited  by  De  Forsac's  disinclina- 
tion to  refund  the  money  he  had  borrowed,  was  now 
overlooked  in  the  readiness  he  had  evinced  to  assist  him 
to  a  much  larger  amount,  and  in  a  much  more  essentifil 
manner. 

"  Eh  Men,  mon  ami,  as-tu  reussi  ?"  inquired  Adeline, 
as  he  entered  with  a  smile  upon  his  countenance. 

Clifford  displayed  his  now  tolerably  well  stocked 
purse—"  Void  ma  reponseP^  he  exclaimed;  "«7  est 
vrai  mie  c'eit  bien  peu  de  chose,  mais  nous  en  aurons  en- 
core denmn." 

Adeline  raised  her  eyes  with  an  expression  of  asto- 
nishment. "  //  parait  quHl  a  des  fmds  aujourd'hui  ; 
mid  towjowi  de  quoi  payer  ce  vi'lain  taiUeur ;  mats 
vraiitisnt  compes'tu  en  recevoir  de  lui  demain  ?" 

Delmaine  then  proceeded  to  explain  the  arrangements 
he  had  made  with  the  marquis  for  the  twenty  thousand 
francs,  and  to  thi»  Adeline  listened  with  deep  and  pain- 
ful Interest.  In  vain',  however,  did  she  urge  him  not 
to  sacrifice  so  great  a  sum  for  a  mere  temporary  convc' 
nience.  He  was  deaf  to  all  she  had  to  say ;  and  when 
«he  again  requested  him  to  make  use  of  her  diamonds, 
until  nis  affairs  were  somewhat  settled,  he  ouij'  replied 
by  a  declarstiun,  that  he  could  not  endure  the  idea  of 
her  appearing  in  public  bereft  of  tiiose  ornaments,  the 
absence  of  which  might  induce  her  friends  to  suspect 
how  they  had  actually  been  disposed  of.  Finding  every 
remonstrance  ineffectual,  she  at  length  yielded  up  tlie 
point,  and,  inspired  with  even  greater  love  than  ever 
for  him,  in  consequence  of  this  generous  conduct,  en- 
joyed the  fullest  measure  of  a  happiness,  which,  until 
that  night,  she  fancied  she  had  never  sufficiently  estr- 
mated.  .-.  &j>;,>r-  -•^«..>' .*  -■ 


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